
Class Jfl_^4L0_ 
Book._J2_ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



"BACK FROM HELL' 




SAMUEL CRANSTON BENSON 



Who went to the 



'cir, a pacifist, but returned a fightinj 
American. 



€^ 



Back From Hell 



39 



BY 



SAMUEL CRANSTON BENSON 



Illustrated 




CHICAGO 
A. C. McCLURG & CO. 

1918 



^A. 






Copyright 

A. C. McClurg & Co. 

1918 



Published September, 1918 



Copyrighted in Great Britain 



«©0!.A5()1811 



SEP 1-3 bib 



'/.{Xj i li 



V. r. HALL PRINTING COMPANY, CHICAQO 



to 
iJlp Wife 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I A Former Pacifist i 

II Red Tape In Traveling 9 

III How I Got into the Service .... 15 

IV A Unit in Its Infancy 20 

V The Northv^^est Front — Mud ! ... 25 

VI A Weird Night 30 

VII The Red Cross 36 

VIII When France Was First "Gassed" . . 42 

IX When Jacques "Went West" .... 47 

X "Trench Nightmare" 51 

XI Calm Before a Storm .56 

XII If an Ambulance Could Speak .... 60 

XIII A Ticklish Attack . 64 

XIV The Death of a Comrade 67 

XV On an Old Battle Ground 74 

XVI The Verdun Attack — Life and Death . 79 

XVII Barrage, or Curtain Fire 93 

XVIII The Ragpicker 106 

XIX Camouflage 112 

XX The Heroism of the Wounded . . .116 

XXI The Treacherous "German Souvenir" . 123 

XXII The Nigger's Nose .128 

XXIII Getting By the Consuls 132 



Contents 



CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIV A Close Shave 145 

XXV Meeting Brand Whitlock 148 

XXVI My Maps of Belgium 151 

XXVII The "Cat and Mouse" Game . . . .156 

XXVIII Shadowed at Liege 159 

XXIX Results of "Frightfulness" 163 

XXX My Mental Processes 168 

XXXI A Night in Louvain 174 

XXXII Ruin and Death 178 

XXXIII In the Palace of the King 187 

XXXIV The Kaiser's Envy 190 

XXXV Caught by the Huns and Tried as a Spy 196 

XXXVI Threatened with Crucifixion .... 204 

XXXVII My Escape and Return to Good Old 

France 210 

XXXVIII No Man's Land 215 

XXXIX Jean and "Frenchie" 223 

XL The Psychology of France 228 

XLI The Contagious Spirit of Sacrifice . . 233 

XLII The Heritage of Hate 238 

XLIII "Back From Hell" 243 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGE 

Samuel Cranston Benson Frontispiece 

American Ambulance Headquarters, Neuilly, France 22. 

Ambulance Ready to Leave for the Front .... 22 
An American Woman Caring for a Little Wounded 

French Child 38 

An American Ambulance Ready for Duty .... 6a 

American Ambulances on the Road to the Front . . 80 
Allied Troops Charging Through Barbed-Wire 

Entanglements 102 

A Dressing Station Set Up on Newly Captured 

Ground 120 

A Hurry Call 134 

"Jumbo," the Biggest Ambulance on the Western 

Front 134 

The Burning of a French Field Hospital . . . .170 

Ambulance Men Working Over a "Gassed" Soldier 225 

Destruction of a French Hospital by a German Bomb 238 
American Hospital at Neuilly Transferred to General 

Pershing 246 



ii 



Back From Hell" 



w 



CHAPTER I 

A FORMER PACIFIST 

HEN the old Chicago cut loose from her 
moorings in an Atlantic port it was a red 
letter day for me. She was a good sized craft, 
of the French Line, and was to carry a lot of 
other Americans, besides myself, from the United 
States to France. We were all in a spirit of 
expectancy, mingled perhaps with sadness, for we 
were going over to see and have a hand in the 
most stupendous event of history, the Great War. 
Although many different motives actuated us, 
our destination was the same, and all of us would 
soon be within striking distance of the scene of 
action. Some of those on board were going pri- 
marily from a sense of duty and gratitude to the 
great European Republic, whose men had come 
over here in '76 to help America kick off the chains 
which George ill had welded on her ankles, and 
secondarily, because they wanted to kill a few of 
the Germans whom they right well hated. 



Back From Hell 



Others were going, and made no bones about 
saying so, because they were natural born soldiers 
of fortune and were Inclined to go anywhere that 
action and excitement were likely to be found. 
A few were to be mere onlookers who were 
crossing the sea as students of a great world move- 
ment, who, from an economic or social point of 
view, would tabulate In a cold and matter-of-course 
way, the facts which they observed and the con- 
clusions to which they came. 

I belonged to neither of these classes. I was 
an innocent Idealist, though soon, alas, to be dis- 
illusioned. I had resigned a comfortable pastor- 
ate in order to go over and, as I conceived of it, 
relieve the pain and soothe the fevered brow of 
those who were In suffering, Irrespective of 
whether they were Allies or Germans, and thus 
help usher in a world Utopia. 

I had always taken myself rather too seriously 
at home, and thought I was a broad-visioned per- 
son whose universality of mind elevated me to 
a position where I could see beyond provincial 
boundary lines, and overlook such things as race 
and creed and national ideals, thinking of all men 
as made in the image of God, and all destined 
for one great goal which was the Brotherhood 



A Former Pacifist 



of Man, where all would be happy, and each 
would deal justly and kindly with his neighbor. 

It Is a natural tendency, I suppose, of most 
ministers to be optimistic about the ultimate out- 
come of the human race, and I was one of this 
class. I had buttoned my long frock coat close about 
my collar and rubbed my hands in that familiar, 
good-natured way, saying that sometime national 
prejudices would be wiped out and the people of 
the various countries would come to see each 
other's viewpoints, and then their differences 
would vanish away. I hadn't yet seen the German 
at his worst. The time would come, I thought, 
when all would fraternize as God intended that 
they should and this wicked rivalry and jealousy 
would cease. 

It seemed to me that even my fellow-Ameri- 
cans, along with the French and other nations, 
were too narrow In their views of things, and that, 
they were equally guilty with the Germans in 
failing or refusing to understand the minds of 
other people. The men who had urged inter- 
vention In Mexico and Intervention In Europe, I 
took It, were men who were engaged in manu- 
facturing munitions, or who were directly Inter- 
ested in war from a business point of view. They 



Back From Hell 



wanted dollars. A part of my philosophy was 
that God would bring about a settlement of all 
these conflicts in His own good time, and we need 
not worry about it. Another part of my philos- 
ophy, so it happened, was pacifism. I was a 
great admirer of William Jennings Bryan, and 
I thought his peace teaching was — well — great 
stuff ! I had interpreted the life and teaching of 
Jesus as being unalterably opposed to violence 
of any kind. No matter what the circumstance, 
bloodshed could not be justified. " Resist not 
evil" was His ideal and, therefore, it should be 
mine also, and as I look at it now, I guess I went 
even further than He did, in my theories at any 
rate. For He did use violence occasionally, when 
it was necessary. 

" If a man smite thee on one cheek, turn the 
other also," was my motto, and I did not believe 
in striking back. Tolstoi, with his doctrine of 
nonresistance, from whom Mr. Bryan received 
large influence, as he once told me, was my ideal 
man, and the only real Christian since Jesus. 

I had also said there would never be another 
war; a war of any size. I knew, of course, that 
there had always been crusades in history, and 
even the most religious people had killed each 



A Former Pacifist 



other by thousands, and had often made the 
claim that God had told them to do so, but 
I considered them to have been misguided fa- 
natics of an outgrown age who may have thought 
they were doing right, but who were in reality 
committing murder and breaking God's great 
law. 

My father had also been a minister, and he 
was so meek and peaceful that he held one 
pastorate for a quarter of a century, a thing 
which, by the way, I doubt if I shall ever do ! 
He was inclined to be a bit pessimistic and to 
lament the heartless struggle which takes place 
all through nature and human life, and he was 
extremely pacific. I inherited the same traits. My 
mother also had been a peace-loving woman, but 
she believed in justice, and I think I Inherited 
from her my aggressive disposition. I was such 
a pacifist that I was militant In it and some- 
times alienated even my admirers by my doc- 
trine. 

However, after Europe went to war I could 
see the storm gathering in the United States, and 
I looked upon It with feelings of fear and fore- 
boding. I was down in the depths. I felt that 
"over there" they were already, and over here 



Back From Hell 



it was likely that we soon would be violating 
God's commandment, 

''THOU SHALT NOT KILL." 

I did not believe in killing. I had lectured 
with David Starr Jordan and spoken with Mr- 
Bryan. I hated war. As a minister of the gospel 
my natural inclination was to preach gentle for- 
giveness and tender mercy, and how I did preach 
it! I was for peace at any price. I preached 
peace in my church and I preached it on the 
street. I even went so far as to rent halls and 
denounce the doctrine of military preparedness 
as a dangerous and vicious propaganda. 

I declared with all my power that America 
ought to keep herself out of this war and that 
she ought to suffer any indignity rather than take 
up the sword and slay other people. I said that 
was murder. While not approving of the sink- 
ing of the merchant ships, yet I said that those 
people who traveled on belligerent vessels did 
so at their own risk and that the United States 
ought not to bring blood upon her hands because 
others had done so. I had no antipathy toward 
the German people. I liked them. I had shown 
this by studying German in college as my only for- 



A Former Pacifist 



eign language. I joined the " Deutscher Verein " 
as my only fraternity, and when I went abroad to 
study, It was a German university that I sought. 

I knew of course that Germany's military system 
was a despotic one 2^d that her own people were 
virtually slaves to the government. But above all 
I cried " Peace for the United States ! " So when I 
resigned my pulpit In Patton, Pa., and told my con- 
gregation that I was going to the scene of war In 
Belgium, they were astonished beyond measure. I 
hastened to reassure them, however, that the pur- 
pose of my going was not to fight, but rather to re- 
lieve distress and carry In the wounded. I had felt 
a call to take up this task, and at this they became 
somewhat more reconciled. So In a few weeks' 
time I was on my way. 

When I embarked upon that great ship in New 
York I was alone. And I want to tell you if you 
have never gone down the long pier and walked in 
solitude up the gangplank of a transatlantic liner 
you cannot imagine the feeling of loneliness I had. 
Especially strong was this feeling because that ship 
was to take me to the hell of a world war and I 
did not know to what else. As we put off and 
glided down by that old Statue of Liberty, leaving 
It in the distance, I began to cry, for I didn't know 



8 ''Back From Hell'' 

whether I should ever see it again. It seemed as if 
I had said good-bye to my last friend. Many of the 
people aboard were foreigners and I suppose I 
looked a pathetic figure as I stood there. I know I 
felt like one. 

That night the lights were doused and we be- 
gan to realize that things were serious. When 
great ships sail in darkness there is something 
wrong. The ensuing voyage lasted ten days and 
when I was not walking the decks those days I 
used to lie in my berth and look out the porthole 
and often wonder what was ahead for me. 

After a week and a half on the ocean we finally 
landed on the coast of France. Meanwhile I had 
made several acquaintances, mainly with French 
people, and I had begun to think I had learned 
their language. A rude awakening was In store 
for me before I had been in France an hour ! 



CHAPTER II 

RED TAPE IN TRAVELING 

AS WE bumped into the dock at Havre I was 
given my first scare. I was taken in charge 
by a French soldier who wore a red and blue cap, a 
huge overcoat with the corners buttoned back, and 
red trousers with the lower parts stuck in his boots. 
These things, however, did not have any particular 
interest for me; not that I was an indifferent on- 
looker by any means, but the thing Iwas interested 
in was on the end of his rifle; the big shining steel 
bayonet, which to me had a most vicious aspect. 
It was sixteen inches long but I thought it looked 
like sixteen feet. 

Without losing any time this man took me over 
to the Registration Department, where another 
man asked me a lot of fool questions, scanned my 
passport, and finally gave me a perm.it of some 
kind or other. I then asked him what time the 
train went to Paris. "One minute," he said in 
French. I thought I'd have to hustle, but he was 
very deliberate. He filled out a printed blank, 

9 



lo ''Back From Heir ' 

taking five minutes to do so and then handed it to 
me, saying in English, " Zis will give you ze per- 
mission to inquire what time ze train goes to 
Parees." From that moment on my stay in Eu- 
rope, as I now look back upon it, was one contirtu- 
ous performance of asking for, and getting, or 
being refused, permits to go somewhere or to 
come somewhere or to remain somewhere. 

Now time, money, and patience were all limited 
assets with me, but the European officials did not 
seem to realize this or else were very inconsiderate. 
They wasted half my time, extracted at least two- 
thirds of my money, and absolutely exhausted my 
patience. At risk of having my name instantly 
recommended for membership in the Ananias 
Club, I will defiantly state that I had to have five 
dliferent kinds of papers on my person to allow me 
to start for Paris, to get to Paris, to remain in 
Paris, to be identified in Paris, and to drive an 
automobile in Paris. If I slipped a cog anywhere 
I was lost. They say a chain is no stronger than 
its weakest link, and I had to possess every link 
in this chain of paper. 

I remember one fellow who had lost his per- 
mit to come to Paris. When he passed his ex- 
amination for a driver's license, the old fossil in 



Red Tape in Traveling 1 1 

charge would not give it to him. As I understood 
the matter, the theory was that he could not pos- 
sibly be in Paris at the time as he could show no 
paper allowing him to come. And let me say in 
passing, some of these papers come high. I have 
figured it all up many times, and as near as I can 
estimate, the papers, all told, which I had to take 
out during my European stay, set me back about 
fifty pounds, five shillings and four pence, or in 
the neighborhood of two hundred and fifty dollars. 
It seemed as though every time I turned around 
some fellow was extending to me a handful of 
papers and an empty palm. But relieving me of 
money was not all. The red tape connected with 
it was what worried me most. Before I could re- 
ceive the particular permit I wanted, I usually had 
to take another paper over to another man and 
swear to a lot of things and get his O. K. upon it. 
This went hard with me because Tm not used to 
swearing. I'm a preacher. 

In my experience the application was a more 
formidable thing than the permit itself, and then 
after I finally received the permit I had to take it 
down to the Prefect of Police and have it regis- 
tered before evening. If this was neglected my 
permit was invalidated and the whole perform- 



12 ''Back From Heir 

ance had to be gone over again next day. After 
the permit was registered I had to bring back the 
voucher of registration and deposit it with the man 
who issued the permit. 

The reason for all this is that every nation in 
the war takes it for granted that every foreigner 
is a spy, until he is proved not to be, and every na- 
tion not in the war thinks all visitors are trying to 
get them to violate their neutrality and thus get 
them into the war. I will admit, however, that deal- 
ing with neutral diplomats is a lot easier than deal- 
ing with the belligerents. 

Then also you have to remember a great many 
passwords. If you go out of Paris you are given a 
password, after proving your right to receive the 
same, and you can't get in again until you give it. 
If you happen to go to another town or city on the 
same trip, the same thing happens, only the pass- 
word is different and all of them change every day. 
So it is not hard to imagine something of the in- 
tricate system which is kept up, and the confusing 
details which are required in order to get from one 
place to another and back again. Of course, if you 
absolutely forget or lose the password, there are 
other alternatives but they require a tremendous 
lot of red tape. You can hunt up the proper offi- 



Red Tape in Traveling 13 

clal, wait until he is at leisure, perhaps two hours, 
tell him about your unfortunate predicament, pre- 
sent all your papers, and after convincing him that 
you are entitled to the password you may receive 
it from him if he is willing to give it to you. 

I traveled in Europe before the war and it irri- 
tated me as it does most Americans, to be com- 
pelled incessantly to register my name and address, 
age, occupation, place of birth, and the same de- 
tails of my father and mother, place of entering 
the country and length of time I had been there ; 
but this was nothing compared to the formalities 
and the irritating requirements of the present time. 
French officials try to be as accommodating and 
polite as possible, but if you object to any point, 
they tell you with a shrug of the shoulders, that 
they must live up to the regulations and that they 
must be very careful, as the country is full of spies 
and peace propagandists. 

If you travel at all through the country by auto- 
mobile, you have to come to a halt at every cross- 
road and every bridge. Patrols with rifles are sta- 
tioned at these places and the man who tried to run 
by one of these would be shot down instantly. You 
are required to produce all your papers, which are 
scanned by the guards, who, if satisfied, will then 



14 ''Back From Heir' 

let you drive on In peace until you come to the next 
guarded point. If the guards are not satisfied, you 
sheepishly turn your car around, go back to Paris, 
get your papers rectified, or get additional ones and 
strike out again. You often lose hours of time and, 
not infrequently, days as well, In getting the re- 
quired permits. You get angry at first, but It does 
no good and you may as well quickly learn to keep 
your temper, for when you think It all over you will 
realize that when such a vital Issue is at stake, every 
possible precaution must be taken. 



CHAPTER III 

HOW I GOT INTO THE SERVICE 

MY FIRST formal call when I got to Paris 
was upon Ambassador Sharp. This, how- 
ever, was not until I had been In the city several 
days. I had become acquainted on the ship with a 
party of Serbians who had been mining up In Alaska 
and were now going back to fight the Austrlans. 
They had some difficulty and delay In arranging 
their passports, so I remained with them until they 
got away. 

When at last I called on Mr. Sharp and told 
him I wanted to go to Belgium, he asked me why 
I didn't stay and do relief work in France. He 
Informed me that I would not be allowed to go to 
Belgium anyway, as the German Government had 
already required the United States to withdraw 
many of the consuls. He said my work was 
needed there In France. Of course I agreed with 
him — under the circumstances I Acting upon his 
suggestion and with his letter of endorsement I 
went to Neuilly and applied for work in the now 

IS ' 



1 6 ''Back From Hell 



well-known American Ambulance. I was ac- 
cepted almost Immediately and then I carefully re- 
moved my frock coat and folded it up. Without 
delay I received a uniform and equipment and set 
to work. The outfit was issued to me free, although 
men with plenty of money had to pay for theirs. 
I remember having my picture taken in uniform 
and sending it to my parishioners In the States, 
who wrote back and told me of the Interest and 
comment It caused when shown at a church social. 
From the outset we were very busy. I was put 
on the base or Paris squad in the beginning, as most 
all of the new men were, temporarily, and the very 
first night I was sent out with a Swiss Frenchman 
to a depot at Aubervllliers, which was being used 
as a receiving hospital. There on the floor of that 
great building many hundreds of wounded soldiers 
lay mutilated and suffering. Some had their jaws 
blown off. Others had eyes or noses gone. I shall 
never forget that dreary night. There was a cold 
rain driving and I was soaked to the skin, but 
there were many human beings who suffered worse 
than I did for their country's sake. When I' saw 
one man who had been hit by a German dumdum 
or explosive bullet, I gritted my teeth. We were 
kept working all night transporting those poor 



How I Got into the Service 17 

fellows in Ford ambulances from the railroad 
station to the different hospitals, as the French 
officers instructed. On each trip we carried three 
lying-down cases, or if the wounded could sit up we 
conveyed five. For some time thereafter this was 
our main work. 

But after several weeks had passed, the winter 
began to break and with it the spring offensive 
opened up. I was with section two of the Ambu- 
lance, later called section Y, and a very capable 
man from the Middle West, was in charge as 
commander. This section had been stationed at 
Beauvais, doing local duty mainly, but occasionally 
working up toward the Soissons Sector and on a 
line directly south of Ypres, afterward being trans- 
ferred to the East. The wounded, whom we car- 
ried, were little more than bundles of mud and rain- 
soaked, blood-stained masses of human pulp. Most 
of them were French soldiers, we being with the 
French forces, but we did have also quite a num- 
ber of British Tommies and still more Belgians. 
I shall always think of those Belgians as such 
plucky fellows. No matter how badly wounded 
they were, as a rule when we talked with them, 
and spoke about getting the "Allemands" or the 
"Boches'* or the " Kaiser" they would double up 



i8 ''Back From Hell'' 

their fists and jocularly show fight by hitting him 
an imaginary undercut, or they would draw their 
open hands across their throats and say, "The 
Kaiser Kaput I " 

At first I liked the Belgians best. One night we 
carried a Belgian soldier who had both legs and 
both arms fractured, and every time we made a 
move he must have suffered the tortures of hell, yet 
never a sound came from him. In fact their 
stoicism was remarkable; hardly ever was there 
any groaning or complaining. 

But as time went on and we became better ac- 
quainted with the French disposition, through inti- 
mate contact with French individuals, we liked 
them better. At first, I had not cared much for 
the French. I am ashamed to say it now, as it was 
my own lack of appreciation, but when my eyes at 
last were opened, my regard for them became high 
and lasting. 

One day after a terrible bombardment near 

S , a hlesse or wounded soldier, whom we had 

carried back to the hospital said, " Comrade, I love 
the Americans." I did not reply at once. He con- 
tinued, "Do you love the French?" "Yes," I 
said, " I have come to love them very deeply. At 
first I did not know about it but now I do." He lay 



How I Got into the Service 19 

very still and white, and after a moment said, " Mu- 
tual understanding is the basis of love," and then 
he went to sleep. He never woke up. 

Many a poor mangled poilu who was just about 
to "go West" spoke in the same strain, and I 
came to reahze that the old love for America which 
LaFayette had kindled over a century before, still 
lurked in the heart of France. America threw off 
the tyrant's yoke in 1776, and France threw off the 
despot's chains in 1789, and thirteen years is a 
very small difference in ages between brothers, na- 
tionally speaking. Since then both Republics have 
made a lot of mistakes and rectified many of them, 
but let it be said both have made marvelous rec- 
ords in the development of democratic government 
and they are now working and fighting side by 
side, comrades in the cause of human liberty. 



CHAPTER IV 

A UNIT IN ITS INFANCY 

THE Story of the American Ambulance Serv- 
ice has been written by abler pens than mine 
and so I will give but a brief account of it. 

When the war first began the idea of serving 
France through ambulance work was con- 
ceived by a few large-visioned Americans. The 
plant of the fine new boys' school called the " Lycee 
Pasteur" was turned over to these men for the 
ambulance headquarters. The beginnings had 
been small, Henry Ford having donated in 19 14 
ten ambulances with which the movement started. 
Early in the next year, however, the American Am- 
bulance institution became attached to the French 
forces which were in active service. The work of 
the preceding months was quite essential in its way, 
as its errors no doubt pointed out the path to the 
later efficiency, and a larger number of ambulances 
were being accumulated from week to week. The 
first donation of machines made it possible for the 
organization at the very beginning to participate 



A Unit in Its Infancy 21 

in the transport work, and the ever increasing num- 
ber of cars necessitated the forming of squads in 
the endeavor to broaden the scope of the service. 
There were at first five ambulances in each 
squad and these were loaned to the French forces, 
but because the squads were so small they were 
used by the French to supplement the regular gov- 
ernment sections which were already in action be- 
hind the lines. Their chief work was that of hos- 
pital evacuation, which it was soon perceived could 
be performed more advantageously by the heavier 
ambulances of the sections which had been working 
at these hospitals before. But in the early spring 
a change was made in the organization of the 
American service and a new man was given charge. 
Through his influence the French officials gave the 
American Ambulance Service a trial on the firing 
line. A section was dispatched to the Vosges 
which soon gained the recognition of its com- 
manders, who requested that it be doubled in size. 
When this request was complied with, the section 
moved to the front in Alsace, in connection with 
a similar French section. Very soon after another 
section of the same size was organized and sent to 
Pont-a-Mousson, connected also, as the former one 
had been, with a French section. During this time 



22 ''Back From Heir 

also a squad had been stationed at Dunkirk in 
northern France. 

The American Field Service was at last a reality. 
These three sections now began to make history 
and demonstrated considerable usefulness to the 
cause. The Americans in Alsace took over the 
dressing station on the battle line, and soon found 
themselves caring for an entire region, which be- 
came famous for its baptism of fire. 

The section at Pont-a-Mousson has an enviable 
record. When it first went to Pont-a-Mousson the 
French service which was already stationed there 
was amalgamated with it. Later on this section 
made the mountain dressing stations possible, 
which heretofore had been quite impossible. The 
section at Dunkirk had been engaged in caring for 
the wounded from air raids and from bombard- 
ments by the Germans almost twenty miles away. 
This section was now honored by being doubled 
again and given work to do at several important 
points along the battle line, and with the French 
army in Belgium. 

All the sections now became of acknowledged 
value and In a remarkably short period their prac- 
tical possibilities were recognized. Wherever pos- 
sible the French sections were speedily removed 




AMERICAN AAJBULANCE HEADQUARTERS, 

NEUILLY, FRANCE. 

This magniticent building was its first home. 




AMBULANCES READY TO LEAVE FOR THE FRONT. 



/f Unit in Its Infancy 23 

and the whole work given over to the American 
units. No car could have been chosen for ambu- 
lance service which was better fitted for it than the 
Ford. The mud is the greatest problem around 
Dunkirk, but it was no barrier to the Ford. The 
large supply trucks at Pont-a-Mousson were out- 
stripped by the Fords, and the slow and somewhat 
clumsy mules in Alsace were superseded by them. 
The drivers were largely college men from Yale, 
Harvard, Princeton, Columbia, and other univer- 
sities, who put great action and Inspiration Into 
the service. Later on the section from Dunkirk 
was sent up to the Aisne. The section at Pont-a- 
Mousson went to Verdun, and that in Alsace was 
sent over to Pont-a-Mousson. Several other sec- 
tions were also organized and played a most Im- 
portant part In transporting the wounded of the 
Allies. 

From the very first day of mobilization It had 
been a terrible problem for the French, who 
needed every last man to fight the enemy, to spare 
enough to care for those who were wounded in the 
fighting. This is most important work, as It means 
the getting of the wounded men Into shape as 
quickly as possible, so they can be put Into the 
fighting line again. The world knows that from 



24 ''Back From Hell'' 

the first the man power of the French Republic has 
been strained to Its capacity and the French wel- 
comed with joy the aid which the Americans offered 
in this direction. It released many of their own 
men and furnished many cars which otherwise 
they would have had to supply themselves, di- 
verting them from the most vital points. The taxi- 
cab army which Paris sent out In the first days of 
the war was not equipped for ambulance work, 
and so from that time on, for almost three years, 
the men and ambulances from America were uti- 
lized and welcomed with enthusiasm. 

The French will never forget and certainly the 
Americans will remember with pride the assistance 
they were able to render in the days when the lib- 
erty and existence of the nation hung by a patheti- 
cally slender thread. 



CHAPTER V 

THE NORTHWEST FRONT MUD ! 

THE section which had been at Dunkirk and 
in Flanders had some interesting experi- 
ences. The larger part of the time the boys were 
put up In stables and slept on straw or in the ambu- 
lances. They had gone out in the early spring 
and were detailed to work around Dunkirk carry- 
ing the blesses from the freight depot to the sev- 
eral hospitals as the French authorities directed. 
Working in mud under air raids and long range 
bombardments was not unusual to them. 

The history of the northwest front Is a history 
of men In mud. From Dunkirk to Verdun and 
much farther, this ugly nightmare tears the soul. 
[The world has heard of the mud In Flanders, long 
ere this, and I believe this war has done more to 
advertise the real estate of that country than any- 
thing else could do. I suppose the people of the 
Western Hemisphere never knew there was so 
much mud In the world. I know I never did. And 
Flanders Is not the only place that has It cither. 

25 



26 ''Back From Hell'' 

That entire front Is blessed with It extending two 
hundred miles long and almost two feet deep. If 
I had unlimited time I would figure up just how 
much mud there was. We think we have mud In 
America, Missouri boasts of most of It, and has 
thus become proverbial. I once read of an old 
colonel who was riding along on his horse one day 
In Missouri during the Civil War when he saw an 
old hat lying In the mud on the side of the road. 
Strange to say, the hat kept revolving, first one 
way and then the other. The colonel's curiosity 
finally got the better of him and he dismounted 
and went over to where the hat was lying. Giving 
It a kick he discovered a private's head under it 
smiling up at him graciously. '' Well, my man," 
said the colonel, "you'll pardon me, but can I do 
anything to help you ? You seem to be in a pretty 
bad way." "Oh, yes," answered the private, "but 
as for myself, I'll make out all right, for I can 
breathe. It's not myself I'm worrying about, but 
the horse that's under me sure is in a bad way." 
I thought of this story a thousand times while 
over there, and I think I told it at least half that 
number of times. The mud in the spring is so 
thick that it oppresses one. It gets on your mind 
as well as on your body. A person who only has 



The Northwest Front — Mud! 2J 

an occasional trip may laugh at it, but when one 
drives through it day and night, and night and day 
for weeks the humor of it all wears off. It be- 
comes a mighty serious affair. In many places it 
is thick and sticky like bread dough and piles up 
on your wheels or feet making it almost impossible 
to move. The clay, or gumbo, in America cannot 
compare with it. It is whitish gray in color and 
even when it is not heavy it is exceedingly dis- 
agreeable. It splashes on your clothes and flies 
in your eyes. It gets into your ears, your nose, 
and your hair, and not Infrequently Into your mouth 
if you talk or laugh too much. It has a resem- 
blance to gray paint and partakes very much of 
Its nature. Once it gets on your clothes It is im- 
possible to get it off and it even sticks to and stains 
your flesh so that it requires hard scrubbing with 
soap and hot water to remove it. Yet when it 
splashes you in this manner It is pleasant — com- 
pared to the discouraging effect when it Is heavy ! 
One day when I was going to a shop with an 
empty car for some repairs, I met my old antago- 
nist, French mud. It was the genuine article this 
time too, the kind that gets a hold and doesn't let 
go. I was turning out of the road to allow a 
camion to go by but in my eagerness to avoid it I 



28 ''Back From Hell'' 

swerved an inch too far. Little by little I felt 
the back end of my car sliding off the road so I 
threw in low speed and opened the gas. The 
front wheels stayed on the higher ground but the 
rear wheels seemed to be trying to catch up with 
them and finally did so, but when they did, they 
pulled the whole car off into the gutter which was 
not steep but oh, so muddy. I labored and strug- 
gled with the gas and the low speed. I groaned 
and swore, I stalled my engine and got out to 
crank it, and when I did I couldn't get in again. 
I used up ten minutes In getting my feet out of that 
mud and getting them cleaned up. I tried it again 
but it was no use, the car would not come, for it 
was stuck. That was the only explanation there 
was, it was stuck in French mud. Not having any 
chains I tried to put sticks and boards under the 
wheels and I succeeded but they went so far under 
that I could not see what became of them. I finally 
began pulling a farmer's rail fence to pieces in my 
attempt to pry out the wheels and get a founda- 
tion to start from, but at last I had to walk more 
than a mile till I found two men at a farmhouse 
who came down with a heavy team to pull me out. 
When they arrived at the place where the car was 
stuck, lo, the fence which I had dismantled be- 



The Northwest Front — MudI 29 

longed to one of the men. He looked at me with 
a peculiar expression. I thought he was angry 
and was going to scold me and demand payment 
for damage to his property. In a couple of sec- 
onds, however, we both burst out Into a hearty 
laugh for he appreciated the situation as well as I. 
With a large log chain looped around the front 
axle of the car the great horses put their necks 
Into the collar and hauled It out. The men would 
not accept a cent of pay, one of them saying, " Not 
a sou, It's for France." 



CHAPTER VI 

A WEIRD NIGHT 

ONE midnight after a certain engagement 
" somewhere in France " in which many men 
fell, I learned of an experience which burned its 
way Into my soul, and I believe will stay there till 
the Judgment Day. I have read in history of indi- 
viduals such as the one I am telling of, but never 
in my life have I had actual knowledge of any but 
this one, and I hope that I shall hereafter forever 
be delivered from such. 

This particular night the firing for some reason 
had suddenly ceased. A man named Valke was 
an emergency watcher at a listening post, when 
the most blood-curdling thing I have ever known 
occurred. 

A listening post Is a branch off from the main 
trench toward the enemy or in his general direc- 
tion, which Is dug secretly as you go, the dirt being 
carried back In bags so as not to disclose Its loca- 
tion. These posts must be changed often, as the 
enemy is apt to discover them, and then look out I 

30 



A Weird Night 31 

Valke was standing in the darkness and seclu- 
sion of the post when a shriek rent the air, the 
sound of which he said he would hear through 
eternity. It came from a man who was prostrate 
on the ground. He had noticed the body lying 
there before, a few yards away, and had assumed 
that the man was dead. He was a Frenchman, 
and on account of the darkness could be seen with 
difficulty. But he was not dead, only unconscious, 
and something had suddenly revived him. 

"O God," he cried, "my marriage ring!" 
and then he moaned and groaned like a lost soul in 
agony. Immediately another form raised up to 
full stature and looked quickly about. Valke had 
to strain his eyes to see him and he trembled with 
nervousness. He did not know what to do for an 
instant. The man's head jerked this way and that. 
He must have expected someone to hear the cries 
and groans of the other man, and evidently was 
looking around for watchers or listeners. The 
Frenchman kept on groaning, and the man, seem- 
ing to fear that if any watchers were near, they 
would immediately let loose upon him, started to 
run. Valke kept very still in his dark post. 

Suddenly the fugitive stopped. He turned and 
ran back to the prostrate Frenchman. Valke saw 



32 ''Back From Hell'' 

the gleam of a knife drawn from a sheath. It 
was In the hand of the apache. In an instant the 
horrid thing was done — a swift movement of the 
arm, a flash, and the blade plunged into the body 
of the helpless soldier ! Then silence : silence more 
terrible than the groans of agony that it stilled. 
Valke's fists clinched by instinct, the nails cutting 
Into the very flesh of his palms; and then his right 
hand went to the holster on his hip. It was all 
too plain: the hideous vulture of the battlefield 
knew that *' dead men tell no tales,*' and that the 
wounded sometimes recover and tell things that 
lead to fearful reprisals on their enemies. More 
than that: wounded men cry out and groan; but 
the dead are quiet. The knife had done its work : 
escape might be surer for the assassin. That's the 
logic of ghouls. 

Valke drew his service pistol, but hesitated to 
fire. To do so might betray his listening post and 
draw the enemy's shrapnel; It might be fatal to 
the section. In the second that Valke cast up the 
chances, he heard whisperings from another lis- 
tening post. The ghoul had risen and was slink- 
ing for cover when the crack of a rifle tore a gap 
in the stillness. A light flashed up fifty yards 
ahead. Instinctively, the prowler sought the cover 



A Weird Night 33 

of a bush nearby and waited for the lapse of atten- 
tion which might let him dash to safety. A sentry 
on patrol came up, passed, and vanished. That 
was the apache's chance I He came out of hiding 
and skulked along the entanglements hoping to find 
an alleyway to safety. The way led him right In 
front of Valke's listening post. A flash lamp shot 
Its beam of blinding light full on the assassin's 
face. 

"Who goes there?" challenged Valke. No 
answer. 

"Who goes there?" . . . Silence; not a 
sound. 

''Qui Five f' . . . No reply. ''Qui Vive?'' 

Then Valke pressed the trigger and with a 
groan the apache crumpled up, dead. 

" For a minute," said Valke In telling me the 
story, " the thought of what I had done made me 
shudder, though It was nothing but a plain matter 
of army duty. The man had been challenged, 
well knowing the penalty of war for silence. And 
yet — I had killed him ! It made me feel faint. But 
when we examined the body It was all right again 
inside of me. That German held In his hand a 
bleeding human finger, still at blood heat, and 



34 ''Back From Hell'' 

around that finger was a marriage ring! In his 
pocket he had an emblem pin and a gold watch and 
chain; and on his own finger a diamond ring — all 
snatched from the dead or dying bodies of men 
who had made the supreme sacrifice for France I 
Who could pity such a vile ghoul as he ? " 

From that hour. I believe my transformation 
began. I thought of my sacred calling, the min- 
istry. My church at home flashed into my mind. 
What would people think? How would I stand 
In the eyes of God? I reflected on my former 
teachings and beliefs. Could I face my friends, to 
whom I had preached peace and gentleness, now 
that I had applauded violence and war? Was 
it right or justifiable? My mind was very much 
perturbed and I was extremely nervous. A proc- 
ess of moral regeneration of my ideas was going 
on. This, I now believe, to be as important as a 
man's spiritual conversion, and step by step this 
book unfolds the process In my life. I stood at an 
hour of decision. I faced life. Its issues must be 
met. Here In the presence of death I had my 
supreme struggle. Time divided! The roads 
parted. Eternity was ahead. Where was I? I 
was In hell I Right then it surrounded, enveloped, 
engulfed me. The hour was freighted with des- 



A Weird Night 35 

tiny. Then came a sudden high resolve. " I must 
take the path of right and duty, wherever it may 
lead, e'en ' though I walk through the valley of the 
shadow of death. Thou art with me.' Duty may re- 
quire violence and war." My pacifism began to 
fade away, as I saw visions of mutilated men. 
Then all went black. 



CHAPTER VII 

THE RED CROSS 

CARING for men, not only those who are 
wounded, but for those who are sick or in 
trouble as well, the Red Cross is without a doubt 
the greatest relief organization in the world today. 
It is so far-reaching in its scope that it does not 
stop with the soldiers, but includes also in its min- 
istrations indirect victims of war — the widows, 
the fatherless, the aged left desolate, the homeless, 
and the refugees of every age and.condition of life. 
Heretofore some people have had a wrong impres- 
sion of this great agency, thinking that it minis- 
tered merely to unfortunate men on the battle field. 
This is far from being the case, however. It holds 
out its hand of hope and help to many other thou- 
sands who would languish in hopelessness and de- 
spair but for its kindly succor. 

To be sure in war time the most critical point 
of all is the battle line. And the most Important 
man Is the soldier. He must be kept fit to do his 
work or all else fails. Therefore naturally enough 

36 



The Red Cross 37 



the Red Cross, or Croix Rouge as it Is called In 
France, focuses Its attention mainly on the fighting 
men. The problem of caring for the wounded 
in the present conflict Is so different and so much 
more vast than In any previous war that a com- 
parison is well nigh Impossible. Back In our Civil 
War there was no Red Cross organization and 
the facilities for attending to the needs of the in- 
jured and the sick were extremely limited to say 
the least. Consequently while we did the best we 
could, hours and days often passed, before a 
wounded soldier could be attended to, and many 
deaths ensued which would be avoided today. In 
fact the mortality percentage was immensely higher 
than in the present war. This sounds almost un- 
believable in view of the many fearful devices 
which the Germans have used and the constant 
reports of awful carnage. But when we base our 
death estimates upon the actual number of men 
engaged the face of the situation changes very ma- 
terially. We must remember that even in time of 
peace in civil life among twenty million men there 
will be thousands of deaths each day and the 
chances of saving a sick or wounded man are far 
greater today than ever before. 

The marvelous Red Cross institution has 



38 ''Back From Hell'' 

sought out the best physicians and surgeons of 
every country and the most efficient nurses as aids; 
and by research investigation and experiments 
has brought down to the finest point that science 
has yet attained the matter of saving life. Any 
person who has had anything whatever to do with 
this great agency will testify to its marvelous skill 
and efficiency. 

Moreover, aside from its merely utilitarian 
aspect, there goes with the Red Cross Angel in 
Europe that sentimental sweetness and that deli- 
cate touch which is so treasured by the heart of 
every soldier. It is the beginning, by the greatest 
Mother in the world of the fulfillment of the 
prophecy of Jesus, " I was hungry, and ye gave 
me to eat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I 
was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye 
clothed me ; I was sick, and ye visited me ; I was in 
prison, and ye came unto me; verily I say unto you. 
Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of these my breth- 
ren, even these least, ye did it unto me." In this 
way real religion Is practiced in the trenches. In 
this way is that new Christianity taking shape In 
Europe which Is to be the religion of the future 
in America. 

Another of the great movements for the uplift 






Copyright, Underwood & Underwood, N. Y. 



AN AMERICAN WOMAN CARING FOR A LITTLE 
WOUNDED FRENCH CHILD. 



The Red Cross 39 



and welfare of the soldiers Is the Y. M. C. A. It 
has long been recognized that there are many 
strong and peculiar temptations in the life of a sol- 
dier which do not come to people in the ordinary 
walks of life. The first of these is the temptation 
to homesickness. With armies from all over the 
world concentrated in France, and with millions of 
boys for the first time in their lives separated from 
their old associates and environments and set down 
in the midst of a new atmosphere among people of 
a foreign tongue and different habits and modes 
of living, it would be strange, indeed, if they did 
not have a longing for home, old acquaintances, 
and familiar faces. Companionship and sympathy 
are the things they need above all else. Confiden- 
tial relations between themselves and those whom 
they can call friends is worth everything, and 
this is exactly what the Y. M. C. A. establishes. 
It counteracts, if not entirely in large part at any 
rate, the tendency toward homesickness. In a land 
which Is strange, where there are no acquaintances 
and no home atmosphere, the Y. M. C. A. secre- 
taries and the Y. M. C. A. huts furnish the only 
touch of home that the soldier has. Here he 
comes when tired and beaten and spent with war; 
here his footsteps turn when his soul longs for an 



40 ''Back From Hell" 

association which money cannot buy. Here he 
finds exactly what he needs, namely other boys 
who are lonely too and who are seeking the same 
satisfaction that he wants. 

In the hut he first finds the secretary. The man 
who has charge of the building is there to be used 
in any way he is needed. He is not there to push 
religion on to homesick soldiers. Above all things, 
remember that the secretary is a failure who Is 
continually trying to force his religion down the 
throats of the men and boys who want good fellow- 
ship. After gaining the friendship and respect of 
a man and his confidence it is not unlikely that the 
Influence of a secretary will exert Itself in a reli- 
gious manner; but even then it will be indirectly, 
unless and until there Is some definite evidence 
from the man himself that he is interested and 
wants it. 

In other words the Y. M. C. A. as such, is not a 
revival meeting whose object is to impress the 
weight of men's sins upon them when that weight 
presses heavily enough anyway; but rather it Is a 
place of human feelings and homelike atmosphere. 
A boy comes in and finds writing paper for a let- 
ter to his mother. In one corner at the top is the 
Red Triangle, emblem of body, mind, and spirit; 



The Red Cross 41 



and In the other corner are the words: "With the 
Colors." When the letter is written, stamps can 
be had In the building and the letter Is mailed 
there. The boys have different kinds of games to 
play and good books to read so that with the 
amusement and comradeship they can also get 
some mental benefit. When a man comes In from 
the trenches dirty and fatigued and about disgusted, 
there Is nothing else In the whole makeup of the 
war-organization which will do what this institu- 
tion does. 

The Knights of Columbus contribute quite as 
freely to the comfort of the soldiers, and I do not 
believe there Is a boy on the Western front who 
would tolerate a word against either of them. It 
strikes me that the religion of the Red Cross type 
— a type which includes the Y. M. C. A. and the 
Knights of Columbus — Is the kind which the Mas- 
ter exemplified In His life and the kind which he 
Intended for us. I feel that It Is a far truer and 
higher form of religion than many of the brands 
that are being peddled about the world today, 
and I hope when the war is over, that the whole 
world may adopt it 



CHAPTER VIII 

WHEN FRANCE WAS FIRST " GASSED '* 

AT THE Stations these days we found num- 
. bers of poilus who were ''done in" by the 
German explosive bullets, many of them breathing 
their last. Poor devils, writhing in pain and agony ! 
It was bad enough to have their flesh penetrated by 
the capsule of lead and steel, but to have added to 
it the excruciating torture of having the bullet 
explode or expand after it got inside, was 
fiendish. 

But such was the German's idea of "military 
necessity." They had thrust aside every consider- 
ation of humanity, and every ideal of morality, and 
were employing ruthless and frightful methods to 
gain their military goal, which as they said "must 
be attained at all costs." 

And cost it did. 

It cost innocent life and untold agony. 

It was daily costing conscience and character. 

It was costing Germany that standing among the 
nations which is so necessary to the future, and she 

42 



When France Was First ^^ Gassed^' 43 

was sacrificing her national honor for transitory 
dreams of power and wealth. 

The Germans had employed the most fearful 
implements that the genius of their fertile brains 
could devise. 

Liquid fire which seared the flesh, and electric 
currents which burned most dreadfully, were 
among the lighter forms of their torturous war- 
fare. 

The poison gases capped the climax. 

One afternoon, at the second battle of Ypres, 
they let loose this demon of the devil. 

From a distance of two miles the ambulance 
men had been watching the engagement, waiting 
for the signal to come forward to transport the 
wounded men. 

The field glasses betrayed every movement on 
the battle line. 

Suddenly, and without any apparent cause, the 
Allied lines seemed to break, and the fields were 
alive with running figures. 

Astonishment took hold of the spectators. 

The impossible had happened, and the French 
Army was in wild retreat. 

Figures were seen tottering and stumbling 
across the meadow, soldiers were reeling to and 



44 ''Back From Heir' 

fro, staggering like drunken men. Falling down 
upon the ground, waving their arms frantically, 
they kicked their legs In the air, agonized and 
groaning. Some of them came Into the Red Cross 
dressing station, coughing, choking, and strangling. 
Their faces were green and their chests were 
heaving. Between gasps, they related an incredi- 
ble tale. 

The Germans had opened up a bombardment of 
our trenches with some new, but hellish, weapon. 
A greenish, gray gas had appeared above them, 
and hung low, Instead of rising. It seemed to be 
heavier than air, and soon It made its way down 
Into the trenches, choking our men and throwing 
them Into a state of terror. 

They tried to fan It away with their blankets. 
But no use. It only spread the gas, which got into 
their throats and lungs and tortured them beyond 
all description. 

"God knows we will fight like men," they said, 
*'but to be smothered like rats is different. No 
human being could endure such suffocation. God 
never meant a man to breathe that stuff and we'll 
make those hell-hounds pay for it." 

But hundreds of poor pollus had already " gone 
^Vest," and those who escaped were In such a con- 



When France Was First ^^ Gassed^^ 45 

dition of permanent disability and weakness that 
there was no danger of their making the Germans 
pay. Many Canadians, too, brave fellows, died 
that day, but on that day also they became immor- 
tal. 

The stretcher bearers had seen it all, and now 
upon the signal, plunged Into the work of lifting 
the sufferers into the ambulances and carrying them 
back to be treated and cared for. For days this 
thing endured, until at last the Allies devised a gas 
mask or respirator which completely nullified the 
effects of the deadly chlorine, but they paid an 
awful price before they got it. It Is a very simple 
device, consisting of a long cap of light canvas or 
similar material, soaked In a chemical solution 
which absorbs or neutralizes the poison of the 
gases. The cap has large eye holes with glass 
windows. The air from the lungs Is expelled 
through a tube which has an outward opening 
valve, so that you must breathe In through the 
treated gauze. One*s coat Is buttoned tightly 
around the lower end of this cap or " smoke hel- 
met," so that no gas can enter from below. It is 
put on In twenty seconds and can withstand five 
hours of the poison gas. 

Poison gas! Had the nation of Kultur de- 



46 *'Back From Hell'' 

scended to such fiendish methods of torture ? Yes, 
and to worse ones. It angered me. I had already 
pulled off my frock coat. I now shed my vest also. 
I was in process of preparation for the supreme 
battle — the moral struggle — to decide when a 
man's a man; to determine what attitude and in- 
ward action I should take in regard to this kind of 
thing. I could see that I must settle that problem 
sooner or later. 



CHAPTER IX 

WHEN JACQUES " WENT WEST" 

ONE of the most pathetic of the personal ex- 
periences which I had while I was in the 
service was in my association with a young poilu 
of about nineteen. 

I had become well acquainted with the lad and 
we had many an interesting talk together, he speak- 
ing in his Inimitable French manner and I respond- 
ing in my butchered-up attempt at that language. 

One day, however, after we had been speaking 
of how we were going to get the Germans, Jacques 
must have become a little careless, and when he 
went up to his fire step, raised his head a little too 
high, for he received an ugly skull wound. 

Some time afterwards I was by his side and, in 
a husky whisper, he told me he was seriously 
wounded. He asked me to bring him a pencil, and 
said he was afraid he was "done In." He then 
fumbled clumsily about In the pocket of his grand- 
tunic, or great coat, until he found a piece of paper. 
It was in reality a piece of cardboard on which 

47 



48 ''Back From Hell'' 

was a photograph of himself taken with his mother 
some years before. It was old, faded, and dis- 
colored, and on the back of it he wrote a message 
which ran something like this : 

Dear Mother — It has been some time since I heard 
from you. You doubtless know that father and both 
brothers have been killed in the trenches some time ago. 
Now I am wounded also, and I may not be able to come to 
you, as I expected to do next week. But, Mother dear, even 
if I do not get to see you, don't feel badly anyway because 
youVe given all for La Belle France, and I may see you 
some time — over there — beyond the range. — Lovingly, 

Jacques. 

Personally I had thought and hoped that his 
wound was not so serious and it would not be neces- 
sary for me to deliver the message to his mother. 
But he knew better than I. And three days later 
worse came to worst and poor Jacques *'went 
West." The tragic duty of taking his body back 
to his lonely mother, somewhere in France, de- 
volved upon me. I also handed her his message, but 
I could not remain. Her grief was too deep. I 
fairly ran away from that house. 

But that mother's eyes penetrated my soul for 
days and weeks, and my thoughts, try as I might, 
could not get away from her lot. In about three 
weeks I felt a strong pull and I made my way back 



When Jacques ** W ent West" 49 

to her little humble home to see if I could in any 
way lighten her burden a bit, or perhaps say some 
word to bring just a little comfort or assuage her 
heart's grief. When I rapped on the door and 
she answered and saw who I was, she fairly beamed 
with pleasure and threw her arms about my neck 
exclaiming, " Mr. Benson, I am so glad you have 
come," and then rushing over to the dresser drawer 
she brought out that worn and faded photograph 
with her son's message on the back, and as she 
showed it to me she exclaimed: *' I am going to 
keep it till I die ! It's not for the value of the pic- 
ture, but that message interprets the heart of my 
boy to me. It tells me that he loves me, and, Mr. 
Benson, do you know, I wish I might have an- 
other husband and three more boys to go and fight 
for La Belle France \ " 

That's an example of heroism and patriotism 
for America ! 

And after that, for several weeks, that little 
loyal French mother, now alone in the world, sent 
me regularly some cakes and delicacies, with the 
message that as she did not have any of her own 
now to care for, she must try to do her best to help 
those who were helping France to win the battle 
for liberty. 



50 ''Back From Hell'' 

Poor Jacques had " gone West." And she need 
not send him any more clothes or food, but Jacques 
and his two brothers and his father toOj have 
thrown their lives into the scale, and have added 
just so many more names to that honor roll, which 
already is large, of patriots of France. They 
loved their country. Every man, woman, and 
child over there does likewise, and France will 
honor them all eternally. 

I pray God's blessing on Jacques' mother now. 



CHAPTER X 



OFTEN in the long, long hours of the mid- 
night during that period I brooded over 
the situation. Frequently the wheels of my 
thought would turn swiftly, and cause me to reflect 
upon that life in the terrible trenches; in those 
uncanny and frightful sewers, dug in the ground, 
cut there in No Man's Land, and, it sometimes 
seemed, in no God's land, where the guns bark, 
and the red fire leaps, and the shrapnel hisses, and 
the howitzers rip and snort In the daytime, and 
where glassy-eyed rats and vermin sneak and glide, 
spying upon the fatigued soldier In the night time, 
ready to finish up the work which the explosive 
may not quite have ended. 

Out there, In those animal burrows, surrounded 
by mud and blood and bacterial mold, where, week 
after week, the poor, plucky poilus existed. It could 
not be called living, and month after month re- 
mained In the weird, grim business of killing their 
unseen opponents by machinery. 

51 



52 ''Back From Heir 

I can picture them now lying upon that bank of 
dirt, some two feet high and eighteen inches wide 
— the fire step, they call it — which runs along 
the front side of the trench, six feet in the ground 
and three or four feet wide, with nothing overhead, 
or nothing but branches of trees covered with dust 
and mud. 

As I write I can see the entire spectacle : How 
those men stuck out their rifles through the open- 
ings left for them and, at the given signal, fired, 
never knowing whether they hit and killed their 
objects. 

But those bullets went home, all right. 

The list of wounded on either side, at the end 
of the week or the end of the month, told more 
tragically than any individual report could tell 
that those bullets went home. And day after 
day, and week after week, every three minutes, 
or every four minutes, those men raised their 
smoking, reeking tubes of death, and let fly the 
fatal messengers. 

And night after night they had to lie upon 
that bench bed of dirt and indulge in disturbed 
sleep, or else gaze out upon that knotted, gnarled 
mass of barbed-wire entanglements in front of 
the trenches, as it glistened in the moonlight ; that 



''Trench Nightmare'' 53 

barrier, which, unlike the barbed wire that civil- 
ized man — and civilized beast — is accustomed 
to, has barbs upon it, not one but four inches 
in length, to rend and tear and catch the flesh 
of man, and hold him wriggling, writhing and 
squirming as he tries to charge the enemy, just 
long enough to give that enemy the chance, from 
his hiding place over yonder under the ground, 
to shoot him full of bullet holes. 

God, what a nightmare it is ! And when an as- 
sault was ordered and they charged down the alley- 
ways between the sections of barbed-wire en- 
tanglement, they found themselves confronted by 
storms of bullets from those wicked machine guns, 
each one of which speaks at a rate of 450 to 3,000 
times per minute. 

In order to have even a gambler's chance of cap- 
turing the enemy's trench, therefore, sometimes it 
became necessary to abandon the open alleyways 
and charge right across and "over the top" of 
those awful masses of barbed wire. This was 
almost certain death for those of the first ranks. 
Other lines of men following close upon the first 
might also be mowed down as well, as they were 
caught upon the wire, but after a while all the wire 
is covered up, and all the space is filled between the 



54 ''Back From Heir 

top of It, waist high, and the earth, with soldiers* 
bodies, a veritable foundation of human flesh, upon 
which the following waves of men usually rushed 
over successfully without becoming entangled. 

If fortune was with them, they had some pos- 
sibility of taking the trench of the enemy. 

If they did, what next? 

The enemy, or what was left of him, retreated 
through communicating trenches to others In the 
rear, of which there are many, planted a stick of 
dynamite after him, to blow up his retreat, and 
found himself. In a few moments, a hundred yards 
back, and Intrenched just as solidly as he was be- 
fore. Perhaps even more solidly, because he had 
now the men who escaped from the front line 
trench in addition to the same number In the second 
line, which now became the first. 

Such Is war today. 

And, because of this method of warfare, the 
death list Is a hundredfold more frightful, and so 
along that battle line In France, three hundred and 
fifty miles In length, the weekly toll of human life 
staggers all conception. The contemplation of 
It saddens the soul. Nothing but the vision of 
Liberty and Right triumphant can ever compen- 
sate for the slaughtered loved ones. 



''Trench Nightmare" 55 

The piles of dead and wounded men, bleeding, 
groaning masses of human pulp, rotting flesh and 
decaying bones, carry disease and fever to ambu- 
lance rescue workers and all. These are the black 
silhouettes which go to make up that grim and 
gloomy picture, that nightmare of the trenches. 
These, of course, are the things one sees in his 
dark and somber moments. But it is not all like 
this. 



CHAPTER XI 

CALM BEFORE A STORM 

SECTION " Y," to which I had been attached, 
was about this time transferred to a point 
much farther east and south. They were a jolly 
bunch of good fellows and always had a sociable 
time together. As a rule the best of feeling existed 
between all of the members but I remember one 
occasion on which the tranquillity of the party 
came perilously near being upset, temporarily at 
least. One of the boys was of a rather argumenta- 
tive turn of mind and would often deny the state- 
ments of the other boys apparently just for the 
sake of controversy. I think he believed that 
matching wits and defending one's position were 
wholesome mental exercises. I will not mention 
his name as there is no animosity whatever between 
us, but I will say that he went later into the diplo- 
matic service of our country. He had been a kind 
of soldier of fortune and without a doubt had 
knocked about the world a lot and seen a number 
of things. In his time he had been to nearly all 

S6 



Calm Before a Storm 57 

the countries of the globe and had been In some 
colleges and universities. 

On this particular evening we were sitting 
around the tables at our quarters, each fellow tell- 
ing of some exploit of his previous life, and he had 
related some strange experiences of his travels. 
It happened that the night before, when I had 
made the statement that I once crossed the Atlan- 
tic on the Lucania In six days he had flatly con- 
tradicted me, saying that the Lucania was a 
much slower boat. It Irritated me to have him con- 
tradict me In front of all the boys concerning a 
thing which I knew I had done. But I let It pass. 
This night, however, It was different. Heaven 
only knows how we drifted upon the subject but 
I happened to make the remark that students at 
Princeton were compelled to sign a pledge that 
they would not belong to any secret fraternity 
while they were members of the school. My friend 
promptly greeted this remark with the astounding 
statement, " They do not ! " I said, " Well, I went 
to school there and I was required to sign the 
paper, and so I ought to know." He still persisted 
in his denial, placing me In a rather embarrassing 
position before the other fellows. I got crusty. I 
said, "Look here, son, you denied a statement 



58 ''Back From Heir 

that I made last night about a fact of my own life, 
and now you have done It again. You had better 
tend to your own business hereafter, and stop try- 
ing to make me out a liar, or there is going to be 
trouble." He said, " What will you do about It ? " 
I replied pugnaciously, "I'll flatten your face, 
that's what I'll do about it." Of course, he said 
something about "starting In" whenever I got 
ready, and so forth, and the argument died down a 
bit. A moment later when I stepped outside, some 
of the boys asked me If I knew who I had been 
talking to. I said, " No, but I'll do what I said 
I would, anyway. Who is he?" They said, "That 
fellow Is an ex-prize fighter and at one time was in 
the ring with the greatest pugilist in England." 
"Is that right?" I said In astonishment, "Well, 
I don't think I'll slap his face at all, and he can 
deny any statement I make with perfect Impunity." 
We all had a laugh and In his presence thereafter 
I was very meek and lamblike. I pulled my horns 
way In. 

After all he was a good fellow and from this 
moment we got along on the best of terms. We 
had a good many days of calm about that time and 
not very much to do but wait for the storm and 
action of war. Sometimes, to be sure, we would 



Calm Before a Storm 59 

be called out on long trips to the front to bring in 
some wounded officer or some dignitary but our 
ordinary duties were to carry from the station to 
the several hospitals the wounded who came in on 
frequent trains. The French officials, however, 
seemed to appreciate our work even though it was 
quite humble. French courtesy and gratitude are 
such wonderful things that the officers gracefully 
accepted the work and praised it anyway, though 
I have often thought that generosity must have 
blinded them to the many deficiencies and short- 
comings. I sometimes wonder if they do not smile 
inwardly and, when they are alone, laugh out- 
wardly at the service which we thought quite credit- 
ably done. Americans have a way of thinking that 
their work is superior even though it may not be 
looked upon as such by others. At any rate ours 
was done in the best spirit of good will and it was 
certainly accepted in a similar spirit. 

For a while things were comparatively quiet. 
Then, however, all of a sudden attacks were begun, 
and the boys had all they could do making trips 
back and forth carrying the wounded from the 
front to the hospitals. 



CHAPTER XII 

IF AN AMBULANCE COULD SPEAK 

IN SILENT moments of rest between trips I 
occasionally would reflect, " If an ambulance 
could only talk, what tales it would tell!" No 
doubt, sometimes it would tell of the pleasant 
occasions and of merry conversation, and then 
again it would turn to the tragic and the sad. 
Now it would be of victorious moments, and again 
it would be of defeat and discouragement. Occa- 
sionally It would be gay and glad, and speak of 
heroism if some slightly wounded man was riding 
in it and talk joyfully of the hope and gladness 
in his heart. But far more frequently, I fear, it 
would tell of blood and pain and hate and 
death. 

As an example of ambulance tales there Is one 
little Incident which I feel I must relate. After 

the battle at B , where the French Colonials 

of Africa composed the main force of the Allies' 
soldiers, we had hundreds of these dark-hued 
men to transport in our ambulances. The slaugh- 

60 



// an Ambulance Could Speak 6i 

ter had been terrific, and the wounded men were 
extraordinarily mutilated. 

Two of these Turcos had been loaded into 
our ambulance and we were waiting for a third 
passenger, when a German prisoner was brought 
out on a stretcher. He was very seriously 
injured, and lay there quiet and pale. One of 
the Turcos was badly wounded, and the other 
one not so seriously. We received orders to 
carry the German wounded prisoner to the same 
hospital as the Turcos, and so we lifted his stretcher 
and slid it Into the upper story of the ambulance, a 
suspended arrangement which enabled us to carry 
three men while otherwise we could have carried 
only two. There was a considerable distance to be 
traversed between the station where we received 
our men and the hospital to which we were told to 
take them. After we had been on the road for 
some minutes and were driving along at a fairly 
good rate, there was a violent vibration and shak- 
ing of the car. We switched off the gasoline and 
threw in the brakes and, bringing the car to a stop, 
jumped down and ran around to the rear to see 
what was wrong. 

The first thing I saw was a stream of blood 
trickling down from the stretcher above and soak- 



62 ''Back From Heir' 

ing the uniform of one of the Turcos In the bot- 
tom of the car. I then saw that this fellow had 
his knife in his hand, and I excitedly asked what 
was the matter. The other Turco, who was not 
so badly wounded explained that his partner did 
not like the idea of having a live German riding 
in the same car with him, and so he had slipped 
out his trench knife and with what strength he had 
left, had rallied and raised himself up enough to 
thrust it upward through the stretcher and into the 
back of the German above. There was a smile of 
satisfaction on the black face of the Turco, who 
had fallen back exhausted. We unbuckled the 
straps which held the German's stretcher and 
slipped it out, but he was already dead. While 
we were examining him the two Turcos said a few 
words to each other, and when we were about to 
start forward they both refused to ride with a dead 
German in the car. Before we were done with 
him we had to carry the corpse to the side of the 
road and bury it there. 

We folded up the stretcher, put it back into 
the car, and again set out. When we got to the 
hospital several miles farther on, we lifted out 
the stretchers, but one of the Turcos was dead. 
He had used up all his strength and life in the 



// an Ambulance Could Speak 63 

great effort he had put forth to kill the hated 
German, but the other one said he was very con- 
tented, and had died willingly and gladly. 

Such little incidents of different kinds are con- 
tinually happening, where millions of men from 
all classes of society and with different ideals are 
thrown together, and I am sure any ambulance 
on the Western front could tell many a thrilling 
tale if it but had the power. Perhaps it is better 
that it can not speak. 



CHAPTER XIII 

A TICKLISH ATTACK 

AT ONE time I was called upon to go to the 
city of A on a particular errand. While 

there I had a unique experience. I had gotten 
a permit allowing me to remain there over night, 
which, speaking accurately, allowed me to leave 
next day. You have very little difficulty " stay- 
ing" In a place as long as you stay, but if you do 
not have a permit you will have your troubles 
when you try to " leave " next day. 

All permits in Europe today read " allowed 
to leave '* such and such a place on such and such 
a day for another place. 

Well, I had gotten my permit to leave A 

on the following day, the 24th. I wandered 
around over the city viewing the destroyed por- 
tions and making the acquaintance of some women- 
folk who ran a restaurant, and at last I found a 
hotel and went to sleep. The next morning after 
breakfast I left my hotel and made my way up 
the main street until I came to a narrow alley-like 

64 



A Ticklish Attack 65 

street with tall buildings on either side, Into which 
I entered, bent on Investigation. I had not gone 
more than a hundred feet down this street when I 
distinctly heard a boom/ 

I did not pay much attention to it, for I thought 
It was likely some blasting in the vicinity, and 
presently I heard another boom! 

I then looked about and saw a man ahead of 
me leading a horse hitched to a high-wheeled 
vegetable cart, heavily loaded. He was trying to 
run and drag along with him, horse, cart, and all. 
Everybody was running and — well — I guess I 
ran, too! I don't know just why I did — I know 
I wasn't scared ! But some way a feeling Inside 
of me told me I would rather be In some other 
place than there. If I was to be killed, I thought 
it would be more consolation to the folks at home 
if my body wasn't loaded down with hundreds of 
tons of brick and mortar. For nine and one-fifth 
seconds I beat the world's record. 

Boom! Boom! Boom! 

When I got out Into the main street again and 
turned to get my breath, along with a good many 
other runners, I saw three airplanes dropping 
bombs down on the city at the rate of a hundred 
In a little over three minutes, and with the deto- 



66 ''Back From Heir 

nations and the reverberations of the anti-aircraft 
guns which were being fired, added to the explo- 
sions of the bombs themselves, It just seemed as 
though the entire atmosphere was raining bombs. 
And any way I went, a whole flock of the bombs 
followed me. I learned later that an important 
factory was destroyed and that forty people were 
killed. If they had told me forty thousand, I 
think I should have believed it. The feeling on 
such an occasion as this is indescribable. It is 
not like any ordinary bombardment when you 
know the enemy is letting you have it from only 
one side — the front. The sense of utter help- 
lessness when you feel he Is all about you and 
peppering you from a thousand angles Isn't 
comfortable to say the least. That afternoon 
I strolled about the city taking In the ruined dis- 
tricts, and that evening I set off for my post, com- 
plying with the provisions of my pass. If I hadn't 
left then, I couldn't have gone at all without a lot 
of difficulty. 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE DEATH OF A COMRADE 

ON A certain Friday afternoon at M the 
day had been ominously quiet. Several of 
the boys had gone out for a little stroll and lunch 
before retiring, and a few were hanging around 
the cars. The sun was sinking low in the west 
and appeared to be loath to drop out of sight. An 
orderly from the hospital came rushing over out 
of breath and told us to come quickly. Two boys 
went with me immediately and as we entered a 
darkened room we saw our old friend, Gaston, 
apparently "passing out." Some of us had been 
pretty well acquainted with him. We went in 
noiselessly but as soon as we stepped over the 
threshold he opened his eyes a little wider and 
smiled faintly. He looked so peaceful that we 
hated to disturb him. Speaking in a kind of hoarse 
whisper he said, " I sent for you. I am glad you 
came. You boys have been good to me and I 
wanted to thank you. I am lonesome, and I want 
my mother, too. Pneumonia has set in, but I'll 

67 



68 ''Back From Heir 

be better — in — a — couple — of — days. How 

— Is — the — battle — go ?" Here his eyes 

closed and he seemed to sleep. Yes, I can truth- 
fully say he did find sleep. The sleep which knows 
no waking. But the room was so quiet and he 
looked so calm and happy as he lay there that it 
did not seem like death. It only seemed as if some 
white angel had come down and touched his tired, 
feeble body and transfigured him. Poor fellow, 
he had been gassed at the battle of Ypres, and we 
had met him at the hospital. Several times we had 
had good visits with him and neither he nor we sur- 
mised that his time was so near at hand. He had 
not appeared to be In pain and he always said he 
did not suffer. And he was so hopeful to the end. 

His life story had been a sad one. Married 
when very young he had been a farmer on one of 
those little places so common and yet so unique in 
France. Things had not gone well with him and 
his farm had almost been forfeited. He had a 
family of children but his little twin boy and girl 
had been killed In a runaway and the shock had 
prostrated his wife. She had been an Invalid ever 
since. Years had gone by and then when the Ger- 
mans came, a shell had struck his home killing his 
wife in her bed and Injuring his other boy. A few 



The Death of a Comrade 69 

hours later the Germans entered the place, driving 
him out of his home, taking his farm. He had 
barely time to escape being captured, which would 
have meant service for Germany instead of for 
France. His heart had been saddened but he was 
glad to get away and go into the French Army and 
he had gone back to fight the Germans. He had 
gone through several battles without being injured 
but the gas caught him at Ypres. He lived sadly 
but died peacefully, and we were requested to be 
present at the last little service over what was 
earthly of him. They put him in a plain casket 
covered with a French flag and the procession 
started down toward the little church. 

At this time the Germans were bombing the dis- 
trict quite regularly. On reaching the graveyard 
we could see dozens of tombstones demolished, 
and one grave had thrown its occupant to the sur- 
face of the earth and it lay there a crumbling, rot- 
ting corpse — yet smiling, or at least so It seemed 
as the pearly white teeth were exposed to full view 
— smiling in derision, beyond the power of the 
German and his Kultur, Here Gaston was laid 
to rest. 

But war furnishes strange contradictions. It is 
a continuous panorama of lights and shadows; of 



70 ''Back From Heir 

beauties and hideous monstrosities. It furnishes 
some of the truest and bravest acts that history 
records and it produces some of the foulest deeds 
of crime. Experiences are so varied. Some eve- 
nings, while loafing about the headquarters sitting 
at little tables writing letters or talking peacefully 
there was nothing whatever to remind us of battle. 
Beautiful parks were in front of us, fountains and 
flowers, and all was quiet and serene. Then a call 
would come and within an hour or two we would 
be enveloped in the harsh stern facts of war. 

After witnessing the death of our comrade and 
seeing the shattered cemetery and the decaying 
corpse sticking out of the grave, all in one day, 
I felt a bit weird myself. A man's nervous consti- 
tution isn't made of Iron and even after seeing 
many morbid spectacles, unless he has become 
hopelessly hardened, he will still be affected by 
tragic experiences and brutal scenes. I didn't rest 
any too well that night after those creepy sensa- 
tions and the next day my nerves were rather shaky. 
The grim spectacle which was now to greet my 
eyes did not tend to quiet me either. 

I was sent on quite a long trip to bring in two 
wounded men of the Colonials, one French, the 
other British. These two men, Turko and Senega- 



The Death of a Comrade 71 

lese, proverbially speaking, were as black as the 
ace of spades. Neither of them was very dan- 
gerously wounded and both were talking cheer- 
fully. One had a leg broken and the other had 
been caught in the shoulder. As we slid out the 
stretcher of the first man and placed it on the 
ground, his knapsack fell off and to my astonish- 
ment out rolled the head of a German soldier I 
The African spoke of it with great satisfaction, 
turning it over in his hands and boasting of his 
good fortune, as, I suppose the primitive Ameri- 
can Indian boasted of the scalp dangling from his 
belt. The other fellow, not to be outdone, ran his 
hand into the cavernous depths of his pocket and 
brought forth a human eye. It was a ghastly look- 
ing object. It seemed to me to be penetrating the 
soul of the Colonial, but he just laughed and en- 
joyed very much my discomfiture. 

One evening as I was about to "hit the hay," 
two wounded men came In on foot from the front. 
They were so weak they could drag themselves 
along no farther. I was requested to take them 
to a hospital which was some distance from the 
place. I got my car ready and saw that everything 
was right. The night was dark as pitch. The 
men were put on a brancard^ or stretcher, and 



72 ''Back From Heir' 

placed in the ambulance. We were making our 
way toward our destination when we came to a 
piece of road running through a cut in the hilly 
country. The road was rather narrow, just allow- 
ing enough room for two vehicles to pass. On 
either side was a great bank fifteen or more feet 
high. Right in the main part of the cut was a mud- 
hole perhaps a hundred feet or more in length. 
When we came to this place we were suspicious of 
it and stopped for a few moments to consider be- 
fore making the plunge. As we did so a line of 
motor lorries and soldiers came down from the 
other direction. I was afraid it was too daring an 
enterprise but two or three of the trucks got safely 
through and my fears began to be allayed. A 
truck now came loaded high with ammunition 
cases and just behind it two men on horses. Into 
the mudhole plowed the ammunition truck, and 
the riders followed close behind. The mud was 
getting deeper and deeper and the wheels began to 
clog. An awful tattoo sounded as the driver threw 
in the low speed and tried to pull ahead. The boys 
on horseback turned out to go around the truck, 
which was evidently sticking. As they did so Its 
rear wheel struck a rock and broke short off, up- 
setting the entire load. In falling down, the shell 



The Death of a Comrade 73 

cases frightened the horses. One of them reared 
and fell, throwing the rider right under the over- 
turning truck. He was fatally crushed. The 
soldiers coming up extricated the poor fellow from 
the wreckage and brought him to our ambulance. 
I quickly saw that he was " done in." He could 
talk a little, and he said that it was foolish to at- 
tempt to ride around the truck in the narrow space, 
especially where the mud was so deep. 

We doubled back part way on our journey and 
made a detour. But the mangled man died before 
we reached our destination. We delivered the 
other wounded and made the return trip with little 
difficulty. Later on many soldiers came in on foot 
over that piece of road but they said that the other 
trucks had all turned back and gone around an- 
other way. They did not dare to brave that awful 
mudhole. These soldiers were dirty, worn and 
battle-weary for they had walked from the trenches 
for miles through the mud, and they plainly showed 
It too. There was not a spot as big as your hand 
on them that was not dyed with that cream-colored 
mud and their faces were speckled with it so that 
they looked almost as if they had had the smallpox. 
As one of them turned to leave me, he uttered the 
words, " Some mud." 



CHAPTER XV 

ON AN OLD BATTLE GROUND 

IN A certain section of the country one could 
see from a prominent hill across some cities 
and onward to the edge of the German lines. The 
region has been much fought over and In fact is an 
old battle ground. One terribly drizzly day It be- 
came necessary to go over to a nearby village to 
evacuate a hospital. Wild tales had come in about 
the " strafing" which the town was being subjected 
to and we were Immediately ordered to hurry to 
the spot. It was said that the Germans were shell- 
ing the place with "H. E.'s'' from a distance of 
about twenty miles, with shells of fifteen and seven- 
teen Inch caliber. If there Is anything which will 
put the fear of God In a man it Is the explosion of 
one of those "big fellows." 

From the frightened faces of the men who had 
just come from there, I think the whole town had 
suddenly become a God-fearing people — since six 
o'clock that morning. They told us that hundreds 
of people had been killed and that many buildings 

74 



On an Old Battle Ground 75 

were in flames. Well, we went to our car and tried 
to start it but it would not crank. We tried every- 
thing we could think of but it was of no use. The 
chilly night evidently had cooled the engine too 
much. We heated a kettle of water and fed it into 
the radiator and poured it over the carburetor. 
This helped some, for she sputtered a little but the 
engine did not take enough gas to turn over. Fin- 
ally after I had taken out all the spark plugs and 
given them a good cleaning with gasoline, I cranked 
up and she started off with a bang. 

All this time the men who had come in from the 
burning village had been urging us to hurry. Their 
impatience added so much to our nervousness that 
it made us almost angry. Any man who has motor 
trouble will appreciate it. At last we started the 
ambulance. Just as we were going out the gate — 
whish I We picked up a tack and our rear tire was 
flat I It took me about eight minutes to take off 
that tire and put a new one on, but it seemed like 
hours. The men who had been telling us how to 
do it now climbed into the back of the car and went 
along with us. We had been on the road only a 
few minutes when we met a man coming down the 
road pulling behind him a two-wheeled cart. He 
raised his hands as a signal to stop. We did. 



76 ''Back From Hell'' 

Then, with tears streaming down his face, he be- 
gan to talk to us, pointing to the cart which was 
covered with old rag carpet. At last he lifted the 
carpet and showed us the lifeless body of a woman, 
of his wife I The body was horribly mutilated, the 
head and right arm were entirely gone and the left 
hand was blown to shreds. As the poor man 
looked at the corpse he became fairly frantic, 
screaming and moaning. We tried to say some 
words of sympathy but the only answer he could 
give us was, O, ma femme! ma femme! We 
climbed out of the car and while we stood there an 
old man and a little girl came trudging up — the 
daughter and father of the woman. They, too, 
began to cry. Suddenly the old man reeled and 
fell to the ground. When we picked him up he was 
dead. He had died of a broken heart. We lifted 
his body into the cart beside that of his daughter. 
I never felt so heartless in my life as I did when 
we left that man and little girl to stumble on with 
their burden of sorrow. 

When we reached the village, the situation con- 
firmed all the rumors. The shelling had stopped, 
but the burning of the buildings was almost as bad. 
We drove down the street to the public square 
and just then over on the opposite corner a large 



On an Old Battle Ground 77 

caliber shell came crashing in, striking a school 
building, exploding and producing a fearful effect. 
Twelve children were killed and the entire school- 
house destroyed. The force of these large projec- 
tiles is almost inconceivable. Very often a single 
one will completely annihilate an entire building, 
reducing it to a pile of bricks, dust and kindling 
wood. I have seen one of them practically de- 
molish two houses separated by several feet. 

Well, at last we got to the hospital. Shells had 
burst around it but none had struck it as yet, and 
the few people who were there were badly fright- 
ened. We carried a load of wounded back to the 
base and with the help of the other ambulances 
after several hours we evacuated the hospital. Be- 
fore the work was finished, however, the Germans 
had shelled the road and it became a difficult mat- 
ter to pick our way along and dodge the craters. 
A shell burst just in front of one of the cars and 
covered the driver with fine pieces of stone and 
dust. 

As evening drew on the great volcano-like 
explosions from the guns in the distance lighted up 
the sky and made an inspiring and awful spectacle. 
As the guns belched forth their messages of death 
one might have thought he was in the midst of a 



78 ''Back From HeW' 

hundred powder factories which were exploding 
periodically. There was something fascinating 
about it all, yet frightful, but as I reflected on the 
capacity for ruin and death which those engines of 
war possessed, I thought I would prefer to be 
farther away. The firing ceased as night came on 
and the atmosphere cleared up. A wonderful red 
moon rose in the heavens above those awful scenes 
and for some brief hours brought a feeling of 
peace and calm. 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE VERDUN ATTACK LIFE AND DEATH 

MULTITUDES of people without doubt 
would like to know what an attack is 
like, consequently I will try to describe one in 
the region of Verdun. After serving six hours' 
notice on the city the Germans' big guns opened 
up, with large caliber shells at short intervals. 
Frightened by the fearful bombardment the civil 
population In multitudes swarmed out of the town 
and took to the country roads. Thousands of 
trucks and numbers of guns and soldiers advanc- 
ing towards the enemy passed these fleeing people. 
Many camions slipped off the road, turned over, 
smashed, and were left there, but the procession 
moved on and on. Horses died and were left to 
rot on the roadside. Yet the procession bent on 
grim business never paused. The routes of travel 
were jammed with soldiers and the rumble and 
roar of the monster guns of the Teutons dinned 
Into one's ears the message that the world was 
locked In a death struggle. 

79 



8o ''Back From Heir' 

Men and munitions are the only things that 
count in such an hour; and at Verdun in those 
perilous times so many thousands of noble men 
were wounded and cast aside that inconceivable 
numbers were required to take their places and fill 
the ranks. Such is the wonderful spirit of France 
that men always are ready to fill the gaps in the 
line. They go gladly and I believe they will sac- 
rifice thus until the very end. 

Peasants were passing by in haste, dragging 
two-wheeled push carts loaded with the baubles 
which they counted dear, but which in death are of 
little value. Coming and going, coming and go- 
ing, the two processions moved through the weary 
hours, and still on the horizon the mouths of Hell 
belched forth their smoke and fire, and across the 
field was heard the awful rumbling of the guns. 
Many different kinds of shells were used, produc- 
ing different effects which could be distinguished 
by the various colors of smoke emitted in explod- 
ing. They also filled the air with strange and 
nauseating odors, and the crumbling houses sent up 
enormous clouds of dust. 

Without warning out of the night came a bat- 
tery of guns with a clatter of horses' hoofs and 
clamor of wheels on the pavement, and in a few 




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The Verdun Attack 8 1 

brief moments the sky lighted up with hellish ex- 
plosions, and then died down again. As the night 
deepened, regiments of soldiers tramped by and 
passed out of sight. Then from the distance came 
the awful roar of a fearful "strafing." 

The war hospital during a battle is a fearsome 
place and it always smells strongly of chloroform 
and ether. At the door of one of them the hran- 
cardiers carry the body of a man who has made a 
heroic struggle in the race against death. His 
head is battered fearfully and death has won the 
race. But then — what is death? The common- 
est figure that stalks around on the earth today. 
And, after all, it is not so terrible. A little sooner, 
or a little later, it comes. All must die. Death is 
not the dreadful thing, nor even the important 
thing. It is true, as the poet Cooke has said, 
"It's not the fact that you're dead that counts, but 
only how did you die." 

I am not preaching in this story. I do want 
to say, however, that death is not important. 
Death is not an enemy; not on the Western front. 
Thousands of better men than we, yes, millions, 
have met this same fellow and boldly gone with 
him. They all go, but how did you die? That's 
it. Let the German answer. 



82 ''Back From Hell'' 

Verdun is an old fort and reputed to be one of 
the most formidable fortifications in the world. 
Had It not been so It would certainly have been 
crushed like an eggshell before the German on- 
slaught, for a dozen shells often exploded at the 
same time, blowing up many buildings, yet the 
fortress never weakened for an instant. If Verdun 
had fallen, nothing could have stood. But as Vic- 
tor Hugo says of Waterloo, " God was passing by 
and He took charge of things." To our little 
minds it is all mysterious. Wonderful are the 
ways of His working, but through one agency or 
another He always thwarts the designs of evil men 
and has His way at last. 

Verdun was most important. In every war 
there are certain battles which the historian calls 
" strategic," certain points which are pivotal, and 
the outcome of the engagement there is particu- 
larly vital. The history and destiny of nations 
hangs upon them. Such a one was Waterloo a 
century ago. Gettysburg in the Civil War was an- 
other one. In this present struggle the Marne and 
Verdun have been the outstanding pivotal battles, 
but they were won I Won by the French, who, as 
I look at it, were held up and led on by the very 
hand of God. I am not a military expert, and I 



The Verdun Attack 83 

have no knowledge or insight that other folk do 
not possess, but it is my inward judgment that from 
this time on the battles will be fought east of Ver- 
dun. That is to say in the main, I doubt very much 
if the Germans will push through much farther 
than they are already and I believe that little by 
little the Allies will crowd them back along the 
greater portion of the front until victorious. The 
world must bear in mind, however, that Germany 
is by no means weak and that she will not be van- 
quished without an awful struggle. She may also 
at places advance her line somewhat, but I think 
no one need now fear as many did in the beginning 
that Paris will ever be taken, or that Verdun will 
fall. It has stood the supreme test ! 

One must remember, however, that Verdun to- 
day is not a beautiful sight. The forts are still in- 
tact and from a military point of view that is all 
that counts. But from an artistic or aesthetic 
standpoint, the place is sorry indeed. When the 
Germans sent over their incendiary bombs setting 
the buildings on fire, and then their hail of shrap- 
nel so the fire could not be put out, they accom- 
plished sad destruction. Broken pieces of glass, 
bits of shell and upturned cobblestones fill the 
streets, and battered carts and wagons lie every- 



84 "Back From Hell" 

where. Houses are smashed to pieces and smoke- 
blackened brick and charred timbers, the worthless 
remains of burned buildings are seen on every 
hand. From the individual viewpoint Verdun is 
very sad, extremely so. Thousands of people have 
been driven from their homes and when they left 
they had to say good-bye to those homes forever. 
Multitudes have had loved ones killed while oth- 
ers have lost track of their relatives and probably 
will never find them. Beautiful edifices, the ful- 
filment of the artists' dream, have been battered 
and burned down, and in that city at the present 
moment Art is not! All this is lamentable. 

Yet from the larger point of view, that of 
France, Verdun is a glorious triumph. From the 
national and even the world standpoint, Verdun 
means one more thwarting of the tyrant's design 
and one more victory for Truth and Right. When 
we rise above today, and look at things in the light 
of human progress, our value judgments alter 
much. The world will not care much whether this 
or that individual lost his house or farm, for a 
ruined city will rise again, but the heart of the 
world leaps with joy when it realizes that the des- 
pot has been checked! And even the French in- 
dividual possesses such an indomitable spirit of 



The Verdun Attack 85 

patriotism that he will not mourn for his temporal 
losses just so the future of France is not impaired. 
The long sacrifice and the enduring suffering are 
borne by these patient people with remarkable 
calm. They endure today in silence, their Calvary 
of war, the bloody Golgotha of France. 

Yet I would not have you think that war is all 
battle. Not all of the hours nor even the days of 
the men in the war country are taken up with 
thoughts of horror, or In listening to the explo- 
sions of shells, or the carrying of mangled or lacer- 
ated men. The war is so gigantic in its opera- 
tion and It covers so vast an area that millions of 
the people engaged find themselves many times 
occupied with the most peaceful thoughts and the 
most commonplace pursuits. If all of the people 
engaged were compelled continually to face the 
cannon and the barbed wire, or to listen to the 
moans of the dying, and feel that they themselves 
were apt to be taken off at any minute, they would 
not be the cool-headed people that they are, but 
Instead would be a crowd of raving maniacs. The 
person thousands of miles away from the spectacle 
who only reads about It often gets a wrong impres- 
sion on this point. Nations are mobilized; multi- 
tudes are under arms; thousands are engaged in 



86 ''Back From Hell'' 

assisting those who fight intermittently — and no 
soldier fights except intermittently, a week or so on 
and several days off — and, consequently, not in- 
frequently there are hours or even days when one 
takes the even tenor of his way far from the battle 
front, much the same as he does in times of peace. 

On such an evening, I found myself writing a 
letter, as letters to me of late had been rather 
scarce. I was sitting in a plain, bare hut with 
a kerosene lamp, and a peculiar letter it was that 
I wrote. I had seen some odd writing paper in a 
little stationery store and had paid a couple of 
cents for three or four sheets of it. Each sheet 
was arranged by the manufacturer so as to make a 
complete letter. If you were to take an ordinary 
sheet of paper and perforate it on the sewing ma- 
chine on all four sides about half an inch from the 
edge, then put some mucilage on that half inch 
margin and let it dry, folding it across the middle, 
you would have a piece of this one-letter stationery. 
As it happened there was a little wording on the 
outside, and a square for the postage stamp. All 
you have to do is to write the address on the out- 
side, open it out, pen your missive inside, fold it 
and wet the edges all the way round, thus sticking 
it, and you then have your letter so to speak, on 



The Verdun Attack 87 

the inside of your envelope and the receiver simply 
tears off the perforated edges, opens it up, and 
reads. 

I was writing on this odd French stationery after 
a day of idleness. My table consisted of two 
boards thrown across a couple of sawhorses — a 
very comfortable table by the way, but the kero- 
sene lamp smelled badly. My thoughts were of 
America and home. I was In a soliloquizing mood 
and I also wanted the letter as a souvenir, when I 
returned. And so I began : 

My dear sir, self: U. S. A., When you receive this 
epistle you will be far away from the scenes which now 
confront you. You may sometimes think you have it 
pretty hard staying out here in France away from home 
and loved ones, having no money, dead broke, and labor- 
ing without pay, and often getting little time to rest or 
sleep. But listen, son, you must realize that you are at 
this hour in the very midst of the biggest crisis of history. 
The world has never seen such a moment and if you had 
missed having a part in it you would have kicked yourself 
throughout eternity. Your own little life anyway is not 
an Important thing to the world. A few dollars more 
and a position of ease doesn't make any difference, and If 
you learn the lesson, my boy, that giving yourself In a 
noble cause and living for others, Is the greatest thing In 
life you will have found happiness and gained all things. 
Please take this little suggestion in the proper spirit and 
set It to work. Also remember that never again in your 
life will you ever get a reception from anyone which is 



88 "Back From Hell" 

SO beautiful as that which the French people are giving 
you right at this hour 

At this moment the door opened and a hurry 
call was brought in for three hundred wounded. A 
great battle had been fought and our boys were 
needed at once. I stuck the letter in my pocket and 
went out. In ten minutes we were on the road. 
Arriving In the night at the station where the men 
were to be brought in we were told that the train 
would not arrive for at least an hour and we knew 
that that might mean six hours, as It often did. 
Things were fairly quiet here, but now and then we 
saw the shell flashes and occasionally heard the 
booming of the guns. I went into a little structure 
nearby prepared to wait as long as need be. While 
sitting there I got out my odd French stationery 
and began finishing that letter to myself. I wrote : 

And may that beautiful French hospitality always be 
a bright spot in your life. And when your time comes to 
" shuffle off this mortal coil," whether violently or peace- 
fully, may you remember that many a better man out here 
has done so courageously for a heroic cause. Take this 
to yourself. Good-bye. 

Sincerely, 

Your Friend. 

I folded the top of the letter down over the boit- 
tom and wet the edges with my tongue, pressing 



The Verdun Attack 89 

them together, and put it in my pocket ready to 
mail. I had just turned around when — rip — 
bang — a monstrous bomb burst right in the block 
where I was sitting, tearing a hole fifteen inches in 
diameter right through the roof, and totally envel- 
oping everyone in blinding, choking dust. The 
concussion put out the candle and as I had no 
matches, I just sat there half dazed for several 
minutes coughing and sneezing and wondering 
what was coming next. Finally I rubbed my eyes 
and felt my way out of the place, only to find that 
one of the cars had been smashed to toothpicks 
by the shell as it went off. 

As I met one of the boys he said, "Where were 
you?" I answered, "Inside writing a message to 
myself — but it was a more thrilling message to 
myself that came, in the way of that explosion." 

"Well, I should think so," he rephed. "Here- 
after you had better not bother writing to yourself ; 
next time I'd write to the other fellow." And I 
thought it was pretty good philosophy. 

Half an hour later the trains came in, bearing 
the wounded in numbers. By working until one 
o'clock next day without any food, we finally got 
the wounded cared for and distributed, there being 
400 of them Instead of 300 as first reported. 



90 ''Back From Hell'' 

Providence, however, appears to have seen to it 
that men do not suffer when engaged in work of 
this kind, and I never heard any of the men com- 
plain of being hungry. Sometimes, however, at the 
stations, kind women provided coffee and sand- 
wiches for the ambulance men as well as for the 
wounded, and when this was so they never went 
amiss. 

Back at headquarters one day an amusing inci- 
dent occurred. I had bought a beautiful French 
pipe sometime before which I valued greatly. It 
happened, however, that I had gone out one after- 
noon and left it lying on my bed, which consisted 
of a straw mattress on the floor. While I was 
gone a couple of French poilus had come in to 
chat with the other boys. One of the poilus had 
been imbibing a bit and was feeling pretty good, 
I guess. He sat down on my bed and two of our 
boys did the same, thinking to talk and have a 
little fun with him. While the Frenchman was 
sitting there his eye fell upon that pretty pipe of 
mine and he picked it up admiringly, hinting to the 
boys that he would like to have it. They told him 
it was not theirs but they felt sure that the owner 
would not care if he took it. So he put it in his 
pocket with a wink and laid his cheap, smelly one 



The Verdun Attack 91 

in its place. He then noticed a little yellow cap 
on the bed. It was a sort of skullcap affair which 
the boys all wore when sleeping to keep their 
heads warm. When Mr. Poilu saw it he expressed 
a desire to have it also. The boys told him the 
cap belonged to me but they knew I would willingly 
let him have it. He took the cap and presently 
went out. 

Imagine my chagrin on returning at being told 
that one of the poilus had taken my treasured pipe 
and my nightcap ! I did not care so much for the 
cap but I was very sorry to lose the pipe. I knew 
that the boys would not be able to identify this 
one man among all those hundreds who wore long 
blue coats and red trousers. But fortune was kind. 
Early the next morning when we were going to 
breakfast, we passed a large crowd of poilus, and 
one of our boys began to laugh. He called out, 
*' Benson, there goes your nightcap!" And sure 
enough, on the head of a poilu, sticking down 
below his military cap, was the yellow edge of my. 
nightcap. That identified my man, and I rushed 
gleefully over and smilingly said in my execrable 
French, *' Monsieur, I believe I have your pipe," 
holding it up to his gaze. He took it, saying, 
"Yes; thank you." But he did not offer me my 



92 ''Back From Hell'' 

pipe, and there was an embarrassing pause. After 
a moment I said, " Perhaps, Monsieur, you have 
my pipe?" He smiled again and said, "Yes," 
and fished It out of his pocket. We both laughed, 
and I felt so good that I did not ask him for the 
cap. He's welcome to It. But as for the pipe, I 
now prize it more highly than before. 



A 



CHAPTER XVII 

BARRAGE, OR CURTAIN FIRE 

T THIS juncture let me run over the devel- 
opment of barrage fire as military critics 
look upon and explain it. 

Petain, the great French general, has given 
expression to one of the outstanding facts of the 
present war. He says, "The artillery conquers, 
the infantry occupies." This, in a few words, is 
the explanation of that new method of attack 
by "barrage" or, as the English call it, "curtain 
fire." 

This system of attacking the enemy is a new 
one and has proven most effective for the Allies. 
In a nutshell, it creates what might be called a 
danger zone, or, better still, a death zone, just in 
front of the advancing soldiers. As the soldiers 
move on ahead the barrage moves on, or it may 
be more proper to say that the soldiers move just 
as slowly as the curtain of fire moves, for if they 
do not, fatal consequences follow. If they should 
go too fast they would run into the barrage and 

93 



94 ''Back From HeW' 

would be killed by their own artillery, which is in 
the rear of the trenches. Occasionally a soldier 
becomes too enthusiastic and goes too fast for the 
barrage, and then disaster follows. Accuracy, in 
time and In range, is the one thing which must 
be most strictly observed by the men who are con- 
ducting the barrage hundreds of yards back of the 
line. 

These men project a hail of shells over the 
heads of their own infantry and across a thin 
strip of land parallel to the enemy's trench and 
directed in the first place at his barbed-wire de- 
fenses. This line or belt of bursting shells must 
be so fierce and continuous as to make it Impossible 
for any man to go through it, or at least so peril- 
ous and costly to life that no one In his proper 
senses would try the hazardous experiment. It 
requires a rapid firing gun for this kind of war- 
fare, and as armies have not had such guns here- 
tofore, of course, the barrage fire was unknown^ 
If is one of the new things that have been evolved 
during this war. The French soixante-quinze, or 
"seventy-five millimeter," has been the marvel in 
gun making which has made this curtain fire possi- 
ble. It Is a gun which shoots very rapidly, which 
does not displace Itself each time It shoots, and 



Barrage, or Curtain Fire 95 

which Is able to discharge an average of twenty- 
five three-Inch shells every minute without greatly 
heating up. No gun was ever invented before 
which could accomplish such a feat. 

The older four-inch gun of the French Army, 
which the seventy-five displaced, could never have 
shown the efficiency In this direction that the sotx- 
ante-quinze demonstrates. In the first place Its 
rate of shooting was much too slow, but even if It 
had been a great deal faster a continuous accuracy 
was impossible. When It was first aimed Its fire 
could be carefully controlled, but the trouble with 
It was It threw itself out of place every time it shot. 
The recoil from such guns Is very considerable and 
the older gun made no provision for It, conse- 
quently It had to be aimed all over again every 
time It was fired because the rebound caused it 
to dig into the earth and change Its entire posi- 
tion. The new soixante-qiiinze makes careful 
provision for this factor of recoil and Is fitted up 
like a Ford car with shock absorbers, so that it is 
ready for the second shot as soon as the first Is 
fired, and for the third as soon as the second is 
fired. It maintains a fixed position, accelerating 
very greatly the speed at which It can be fired at 
any given target. The old four-inch gun fell down 



96 ''Back From Heir' 

just here. The result was that its highest rate of 
speed was only a quarter of that which could be 
attained when a field piece was invented, absorbing 
its recoil and thus leaving its position unchanged. 
The only limit to the speed of the new gun, there- 
fore, is the rate at which it can be loaded and the 
degree of temperature it can stand without explod- 
ing shells prematurely, but even this latter danger 
is provided for in this gun, thus keeping it to the 
minimum. The only elements that prevent abso- 
lute accuracy today are slight differences In the 
shells or perhaps a change of wind, which are, 
however, practically negligible factors. 

Formerly, in the use of the other gun there was 
the personal variation of the man who aimed the 
gun quickly, after each shot had displaced or dis- 
arranged it, and the other man who assisted him. 
Each new aiming and shooting of the piece re- 
quired an absolutely distinct series of movements 
and thus for every shot there was that much more 
possibility of error on account of the Imperfect co- 
ordinating of the two men engaged. In this con- 
nection let me say that the curtain fire, which was 
evolved by the modern quick firing seventy-five, 
was very soon discovered and quickly adopted and 
utilized by Germany also. 



Barrage, or Curtain Fire 97 



When first used the purpose of curtain fire was 
simply to guard or make possible the forward 
movement of the infantry and was kept well ahead 
of them, usually one or two hundred yards. It 
was also uniform all along the line as far as It 
extended; that Is, If It moved ahead a hundred feet 
at one point It moved the same amount at every 
other point. It Is a ticklish thing at first for men 
to advance upon the enemy's trenches with their 
own artillery booming away at their rear and 
shooting right over their own heads. But the 
trenches are seldom parallel. Often the country 
is rough and whereas the enemy may be dug In a 
hundred yards away at one point, it may be that 
fifty rods farther down the lines, the trenches are 
three hundred yards apart. In the main we speak 
of the lines being parallel, but as a matter of fact 
they very seldom are so. 

During the early days of the war if one of the 
opponents were going to make an attack he ham- 
mered the enemy's position with heavy guns which 
were concealed or camouflaged perhaps five miles 
behind the front line trenches. The bombardment 
lasted until it was assumed most of the enemy's 
soldiers had taken refuge in the dugouts and 
were so disorganized that they could not effectively 



98 ''Back From Hell'' 

resist. Besides this his trenches would be so bat- 
tered that the chances of success for the well- 
planned assault would be the best. The time 
must be accurately arranged previously. All lieu- 
tenants and captains who directed the barrage 
must keep exact time and have watches timed to 
the second. My own brother, Brenton, is now a 
lieutenant of artillery and I had the pleasure of 
presenting him with a beautiful stop-watch before 
he went into action. 

At the given signal the barrage raised and the 
doughboys went over the top, hustled down the 
lanes which had been previously cut in their own 
barbed wire by the wiring party, made their way 
across No Man's Land, stooping low as they went, 
dropping flat to the ground every few yards, and 
trying to get to the trenches of the enemy before 
they could be stopped. 

But the machine guns of the enemy were found 
to be too formidable and destructive, and as a 
result of this experience they learned to use the 
light artillery which could continue its fire even 
while the attacking party were moving on, advanc- 
ing as they advanced. The lighter field pieces were 
placed within a few hundred yards In the rear of 
the trenches and used to blind the Germans from 



Barrage, or Curtain Fire 99 

protecting themselves, as well as to cover the ad- 
vancing troops until they took the trench. Then 
the curtain fire was thrown still farther back be- 
hind the German line. 

This process plainly was a very delicate one, 
even in Its beginning. It seemed a little nervy to 
order soldiers to advance while above their heads 
hissed and barked their own gunners' shells. Some- 
times these would burst before they got to the cur- 
tain line and casualties would Inevitably result. It 
was rather ticklish business for the men to charge 
forward even if they were a couple of hundred 
yards behind such a hail of steel. 

Soon, however, another Improvement was put 
Into effect and that was to shorten the barrage to 
sixty yards, letting the soldiers advance with 
the exploding shells nearer and nearer to their own 
bodies. Of course, there was great advantage In 
this, as the closer the troops were to the curtain 
fire ahead, the better they were protected and the 
shorter was the time after the curtain was lifted 
until the troops occupied the trench. Cutting this 
time down to the minimum made it so much harder 
for the Germans to emerge from their hiding and 
resist the oncoming troops. The science of this 
was at last so well worked out that a gap of less 



lOO ''Back From Heir 

than forty yards lay between the curtain and the 
troops and sometimes only thirty yards which 
could be covered in a couple of seconds after the 
barrage was lifted. Time, of course, is the chief 
element in the endeavor to get the bulge on the 
other fellow. 

Finally the British worked out what they call 
the " creeping barrage.'* This takes into account 
the fact that the trenches are never exactly straight 
and parallel. But here the camera came to the 
aid of the Allies and it told them just how much 
deviation from the parallel there was. From 
these photographs the relative positions of the 
trenches at any given point were plotted out accu- 
rately, showing the irregular shape of No Man's 
Land and the variation of its width at all the dif- 
ferent places. The Allies then dug identical 
trenches in the rear and practiced on them. This 
changed the method of curtain fire from " regu- 
lar" to "creeping." From that time the barrage 
started in a line which first followed the shape of 
our own fire trench, but as it moved forward the 
configuration was altered and it swayed and wrig- 
gled like a snake gradually taking the shape of the 
enemy's trench. Plainly, it required much deeper 
skill to employ this method, but its advantages 



Barrage, or Curtain Fire loii 

were great. Instead of all the gunners shooting 
in unison at a single command, each one had 
a different job to perform in order to make the 
barrage conform with the angle which the trenches 
made. This is now the general method and has 
been brought up to a marvelous degree of accu- 
racy as well as speed. 

At practically the same time the creeping 
barrage was conceived, another Idea which has 
also been extremely useful was developed. This 
was the second curtain of fire to be thrown In the 
rear of the enemy's trenches to cut off his retreat 
and to prevent the coming up of reinforcements. 
The first curtain covered your advance and hin- 
dered his resistance, and the second one beyond 
him kept new forces from coming to his aid with 
food, munitions, and information. 

The method which is used almost universally 
In attacking today, then. Is this. 

Big guns '* prepare " the way by hammering the 
trenches of the enemy and simultaneously driving 
him to the dugouts and bashing In the trenches 
which shelter him. Your doughboys then go " over 
the top " and advance, covered by the curtain fire, 
at first conforming In shape to their own trenches, 
and little by little wriggling Into the form of the 



I02 ''Back From Hell'' 

enemy's trenches as it comes nearer to them. 
Closely following the moving barrage is your in- 
fantry. Then another barrage in the enemy'5 rear 
Is cutting him off from reinforcements and after 
a time the trench is captured and perhaps many 
prisoners taken. It Is not hard to understand from 
this modern method of attack what the French gen- 
eral meant when he said, "The artillery conquers, 
the infantry occupies." 

Barraging on the field today Is much the same 
as running a great ocean liner. The man who sees 
Is not the man who does ! The lookout or observer 
has nothing to do with the actual control of the 
vessel. The battery on the field Is pulled up Into 
position by horses, then lined up for action and 
the horses are hurried back to a safe place. The 
lieutenant directs the fire and the gunners do the 
firing, but no one sees his target or his results. 
Just behind them, a telephone operator receives 
the messages, sitting perhaps. In a shell hole or 
a dugout. The battery commander Is the man 
who really bosses the whole job from his obser- 
vation post. He Is well named because he really 
commands the battery, though from a position 
perhaps miles In front of the battery. The lieu- 
tenant Is always listening as the telephone opera- 




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Barrage, or Curtain Fire 103 

tor Is getting his Instructions from the commander 
at the front. In the first place the lieutenant 
learns roughly the direction In which to shoot, 
but soon he gets more detailed direction before 
firing his first shot, which Is In reality an experi- 
ment. Standing a short distance behind the bat- 
tery, he plainly sees every gun. Then he shouts, 
" Ready ! " When the command to fire comes over 
the telephone he Issues a signal. The man at the 
first gun raises his hand, five seconds are counted, 
and as he drops his hand the gun Is fired. Gun 
number two does the same and so on down the 
line. The gunner cannot see and does not know 
anything about the result. The man at the tele- 
phone calls out, " Battery has fired." 

The only man in all this operation who gives 
orders and sees results Is the battery commander. 
Usually he can see the target clearly. Sometimes, 
however, when this is not possible the balloon and 
the airplane have to do It for him. The battery 
commander with the telephone operator In his 
rear knows exactly the way the guns are pointed 
and the distance to be covered. He can estimate 
quickly and figure up the necessary corrections, 
and this message may go back to the battery, " One 
hundred yards over and fifty yards to the right." 



I04 ''Back From Heir 

The sergeants then again revolve their control 
wheels. 

The Good Book says, "A great ship is turned 
about by a very small helm." And so does a great 
gun respond very quickly to the most delicate 
touch of the wheel. The gauge is very fine and 
accurate and a hair's difference there means rods 
of difference where the shell falls. If the initial 
shot went a hundred yards over, perhaps the sec- 
ond goes one hundred yards too short. The direc- 
tion is correct. Again in obedience to a message 
from the commander the little wheels move, and 
the elevation of the gun is corrected. The 
third shell, perhaps, goes over fifty yards and the 
fourth fifty under. Very well, the range is some- 
where between those last two shots. " Give 'em 
hell. Salvo!" shouts the lieutenant: salvo mean- 
ing the firing of all the guns at one time. 

Sometimes it is not practical to have an observa- 
tion post located so as to allow the commander 
of the battery to see the result and direct the shell 
fire. In this case he has a balloon which is fastened 
to the earth by a cable and sent up behind the lines 
and out of range of the Germans. At best it is 
an uncomfortable position to be in; hung up in a 
basket maybe four thousand feet above terra 



Barrage, or Curtain Fire 105 

firma, with German fliers hovering about and try- 
ing to blow you Into eternity. It's not soothing to 
the nerves to say the least, even though you know 
that If the balloon takes fire, you have a parachute 
to drop with. 

Again the enemy's battery may be situated so 
that the balloon man cannot find its location. In 
this case the airplane solves the problem, for it 
goes to any desired height, then scouts over the 
enemy's trenches and does the "spotting." Of 
course, communication with an airplane is not as 
easy as with a balloon which has wires running to 
it, but the airplane can send wireless messages 
down, which are received on the earth, and to 
make up for the impossibility of the aviator receiv- 
ing them in return, owing to the noise of his 
powerful motor, the men on the ground use a sys- 
tem of signals like the wigwag flag method. This 
is done by large panels which are in distinct con- 
trast to their background, and move according to 
a certain code. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

THE RAGPICKER 

THE salvage from a modern battle is a thing 
which I suppose few people ever stop to 
think about. Where hundreds upon hundreds of 
thousands of men have been engaged in shooting 
iron and steel as fast as they can fire it, the amount of 
these metals which lies about is something almost 
beyond conception. And the amount too, which 
buries itself beneath the surface of the earth is 
enormous. The money value and military worth 
of these vast quantities of metal is also a thing 
which must be taken into consideration. A battle 
field today is little less than a great ocean of craters 
which oftentimes touch one another. Most people, 
if they thought about it at all, would take it for 
granted that this debris, this wastage, has gone 
back to earth from whence it came, there to re- 
main until the elements in the soil and water disin- 
tegrate and metamorphose the metals from their 
present form back to their original state in the 
bowels of the earth. But this is usually not the case. 

io6 



The Ragpicker 107 



Walking over a battle ground after a severe 
fight you may see thousands of shells which have 
never been shot because the regiment to which 
they belonged was obliged to retreat posthaste, 
leaving these as well as other valuable material 
behind. Frequently the Germans, having been 
forced out of their positions, have abandoned thou- 
sands of unexploded shells and hand grenades. 
Bayonets lie around topsy-turvy and helmets by 
the hundreds are to be seen on every hand. Mod- 
ern rifles dropped by hands that will never hold an- 
other and cartridges not fired because the company 
went forward, perhaps when the Germans beat a 
hasty retreat, are the commonest of sights upon 
almost every battle field In Europe. Certainly all 
of this necessary and vital material cannot be 
wasted. It must not be allowed to lie unused when 
It Is so essential to the army. 

Instead, it Is picked up and sorted out, classified 
and cleaned, and prepared to be used again. Much 
of It Is too dangerous to be left lying about and 
most of It Is too valuable to be Ignored. There- 
fore squads of men are organized, made up often- 
times of the older soldiers, and a few days after 
an engagement you can see them groping about the 
earth and stooping over the shell-scarred ground 



io8 ''Back From Heir' 

carefully examining it in a most minute and pains- 
taking manner. 

In America the scavenger, the ragpicker, and 
the garbage man are looked upon as very low in 
the scale of social refinement, but these ragpickers 
of the battle field are honored and respected by the 
French Army, because they are conserving the ma- 
terials which are most vital to the success of the 
Republic. Much risk is also encountered in this 
work of salvage and not Infrequently these men 
lose their lives, for shells from the German guns 
often go beyond their mark. 

When stores of supplies are found In good con- 
dition, of course they are used at once. If possible, 
but much of the material must be sent back In mo- 
tor lorries to be sorted and remade. Some concep- 
tion of the economic saving accomplished by this 
work may be formed when you consider that after 
one battle many tons of copper were gathered up 
and loaded and sent back to the rear. Thousands 
of tons of steel and Iron were also rescued In the 
same locality and In addition hundreds of rifles 
with millions of rounds of ammunition. Of course 
these materials are remolded and then go back once 
more to Mother Earth where much of It will again 
be picked up. At the close of the war, the 



The Ragpicker 109 



land which is now being fought over will be of 
little value for agricultural purposes because it has 
been so tortured and mangled by the digging of 
trenches and the gougings of the shell holes, but 
It will be exceedingly valuable on account of the 
steel and copper which are buried there. 

Scientists tell us that nothing is in reality ever 
lost or wasted and a battle field gives a most strik- 
ing illustration of this law of the indestructibility 
of matter. We are prone to say that war is all 
waste, and that the enormous quantities of iron 
and steel, trees and horses (and even men), which 
are used up become a fearful waste in nature. Yet 
it Is literally true as a thoughtful Irishman said 
to me in France, " Nature protects the land." In 
other words, Mother Earth from which every- 
thing comes protects and perpetuates herself so 
that no nation or generation can destroy her. All 
trees which are battered to pieces and all the flesh 
which decays and rots, go back to earth once more 
to fertilize and season it so that in the next 
generation It will bring forth and bear plentifully. 
As the Good Book says : " All go to one place ; all 
is of the dust. The body returneth to the earth 
as It was and the spirit returneth unto God who 
gave It.'* 



mo ''Back From Heir 

There is no waste in the material universe. The 
only waste which comes from war materially is for 
the present generation in that things which were 
in a form which we could use have been changed 
to a form less useful but which will be used some- 
time again. The great waste of war as I look at 
it is the moral and spiritual waste where men be- 
come fiends and go out to conquer and steal and 
rape and kill, thus using up their spiritual powers 
and possibilities in destructive enterprises which 
might have been put toward constructive elevation 
of the race. Men lose their souls instead of saving 
them. And yet — the fiendishness of one country 
brings out the angel of the other in ca^using men 
to rouse to duty and to honor and justice, whereas 
without this incentive who knows but that we 
might sink down in self-sufficiency and retrograde, 
thus all of us losing our souls? It seems that all 
through God's universe there is struggle and strife, 
and that moral and spiritual fiber require these 
things for their best development. 

The work of Christ, Christianity, prospered be- 
cause it had to struggle for existence, and when 
a nation or an individual ceases to struggle it goes 
backward. This thought may be a Job's com- 
forter to those who pay the fearful price and yet 



The Ragpicker 1 1 1 

we must look at It In this way. Men must fight to 
get the highest freedom, not lie back and accept 
their fate, else they have only the freedom of the 
Germans under the Hohenzollerns. There Is al- 
ways some remnant of salvage out of the most 
fearful waste. Thus earth goes in a cycle. 



CHAPTER XIX 

CAMOUFLAGE 

THE system of camouflage which the French 
have worked out in this war, is something 
new also. The word has come to mean in America 
" dodging," " deception,'' " bunk," or anything that 
is not out in the open and above board; and that 
IS just what camouflage means in the war in 
France. It is a method by which things are made 
to appear to be what they are not, for the purpose 
of fooling the enemy. It makes an artificial thing 
seem to be a natural thing so that it will not excite 
suspicion and draw his fire. When the French 
place a battery of guns which naturally they do not 
want put out of commission by the enemy's guns, 
they have the camouflage artist get busy with his 
paint and canvas and create a whole lot of little 
trees or bushes just like the ones which grow in the 
ground and then under cover of darkness when 
the enemy can't see them, or when his attention is 
distracted, they plant the trees, place the guns be- 
hind them, and they have a concealed battery. 

iiz 



Camouflage 113 



Snipers are also often hidden in this same kind 
of a manner. The camoufleur with his magic art 
of scenery makes a dead horse. He has his head 
stretched way out on the ground and his legs point- 
ing up In the air, stiff and stark. A great hole or 
chunk has been torn out of his body, but as It hap- 
pens, It is never right through the middle part of 
him because this would not leave protection for the 
sniper. The horse "conveniently" had the shell 
strike him on the side. He Is placed wherever he 
will do the most good in the night time and Mr. 
Sharpshooter, with his noiseless rifle and plenty 
of ammunition and one day's food, crawls in be- 
hind him. There he stays till daybreak. Yes, and 
a long while after. He must stay there all day 
long until darkness again draws down a curtain of 
safety about him, for if he attempted to move 
out in daylight some sniper or machine-gun artist 
would instantly pick him off. If he lays low till 
dark he may fool them and get away all right. 

But the camera sometimes discovers things 
which the human eye would not detect, and the 
camera is always busy. The air flier might soar 
above a spot in the enemy's lines and not notice 
anything wrong or see that there was any object 
in addition to what was there the day before, but 



114 ''Back From Heir' 

when he snapped the shutter of his camera and the 
photograph was developed, by comparing it with 
yesterday's photograph of the same place, he might 
see that there was an extra horse's carcass lying 
there. Now he knows there was no cavalry charge 
through the night, and so he becomes suspicious. 
Consequently the horse is watched. Perhaps in 
time, some one sees the man's arm protruding a 
little, or perhaps a man is picked off without any 
apparent cause. 

Just for luck the enemy takes a shot at the old 
dead horse and suddenly a man rises and tries to 
run back. But he stumbles and falls. He is killed. 
Perhaps he has accounted for a half a dozen Boches 
during the day and the . Frenchman dies happy. 
That's what he's there for, to sacrifice his life for 
France in weakening Germany's cruel hold upon 
his country. 

If it was certain that they could account for 
such a proportion of Germans, ten thousand 
Frenchmen would willingly step out tomorrow and 
go into sure death for La Belle France and Lib- 
erty ! Very often they camouflage roads with ever- 
green trees so as to hide the view of the motor 
lorries and camions which are so essential in tak- 
ing supplies and ammunition up to the front. An 



Camouflage 115 



old forlorn and battered gun may camouflage a 
fine new field piece, and sometimes a weather- 
beaten, broken-down piece of farm machinery may 
be counterfeited in order to hide an observer, a lis- 
tener, or a sniper. Such a man must be of a stout 
heart and not afraid to go over the Great Divide 
for It is full of hazard. If he is discovered it's all 
over for him. 



CHAPTER XX 

THE HEROISM OF THE WOUNDED 

ONE poor fellow whose feet were bare, at- 
tracted my attention. When I looked at him 
more carefully I noticed that he had no shirt and I 
asked him what had happened to him and what 
had become of his clothes. At first he did not 
want to tell me, but when I inquired again, with a 
kind of embarrassed and self-conscious look upon 
his face Louis related this tale to me. 

His old acquaintance and fellow-townsman, 
Paul, was in the same company with him. Back 
in the little home town before the war they had 
been enemies. They had both been bad men, 
crooks and drunkards, and had at one time tried to 
kill each other. For years they had hated and had 
as little to do with each other as possible. It all 
started over an insignificant something, but never- 
theless the dislike had grown until it had become 
very bitter and each was continually on the lookout 
to find a chance to do the other a mean turn when 
possible. They had cursed each other many a time 

ii6 



The Heroism of the Wounded 117 

when their paths crossed, but as far as possible 
they had tried to avoid meeting. But when the 
war came they had been placed together side by 
side as comrades In the battle. Their officers 
had told them that they were not to think of self 
now, because their fight was for La Belle France. 
Day after day they drilled together and week 
after week performed the hard labor which was 
allotted them, side by side, until at last they out- 
grew their ancient antipathy, and finally became 
bosom friends. Then they were sent to the 
trenches. Together they held the line In the same 
fire bay, and hour after hour both looked Into 
the muzzles of the German guns. They had on 
different occasions gone "over the top" together, 
and neither of them had been hurt at all. At 
last, however, early one morning when the Ger- 
mans made a mighty charge, fate was against both. 
The bombardment had been blinding and when 
the Boches came tearing " over the top " these two 
sturdy poilus stood their ground and held the 
enemy back. A German was just about to make 
a lunge at Louis when Paul, with a spring, jumped 
In front of him, receiving a bayonet thrust In his 
lung, and also a terrible wound in his ankle. Louis 
had been painfully wounded in his left shoulder. 



ii8 ''Back From HeW' 

His wound was not dangerous but Paul was about 
" done In," and was breathing hard as he had lost 
a large amount of blood from the hole In the lower 
part of his leg. Here the narrator's eyes began to 
fill with tears. 

" I couldn't let the poor fellow bleed to death 
after he had saved my life. I tore up my shirt 
into bandages and tied them around his leg, and 
then so they would not come off and also to keep 
his feet warm I took my socks and pulled them on 
his feet. What else could I do ? I tried to fix up 
his injured lung also, but — " and then the tears 
burst forth and he sobbed like a baby. " It didn't 
do any good and Paul lies over there now." I 
glanced over In the direction where he pointed and 
sure enough there was Paul, bandaged, up with 
strips of shirt and wearing a pair of socks over 
the bandages. But the black angel had already 
come to him. He had ''gone West." 

I talked with the man a little more and he 
opened up his heart to me. At best life is a strange 
thing to understand. Here were two human be- 
ings who previously, by heredity or environment, 
or else their own devilishness, had been evil char- 
acters. They were known as such by their ac- 
quaintances and they knew each other as such. 



The Heroism of the Wounded 119 

Their lives had been unenviable to say the least, 
and then at last through war, that fearful and awful 
thing, each man had been made better and the 
angel had come out of what before seemed a devil. 
Not only was Paul a bad man but he had hated 
the other man and yet here he was doing a noble 
and self-sacrificing deed and not only that, but 
doing it for his enemy; giving up his life for his 
old foe. 

And here was the other man, showing a grati- 
tude which was noble towards the man he had 
hated and who had tried to kill hjm. He gave 
up his own shirt and took off his own socks to 
try to keep warm the feet of the dying Paul and 
to keep the blood, which meant life, in his body. 
It did not accomplish the result but my narrator 
would not take back his socks as he said he wanted 
the man who died for him to have this little gift 
and be buried in them. Such heroism is not un- 
common in the trenches. 

After all there are some compensations even 
for war. In many instances it may bring out all 
the hate and the hell that is in a man's heart but I 
have also seen hundreds of cases where it made 
men much better than they had ever been before. 
It made them better men and better Christians; 



120 ''Back From Hell'' 

not necessarily of the shouting type but of the 
kind, of which One said: "He that giveth a cup 
of cold water to one of these little ones, shall 
not lose his reward," and again, "Greater love 
hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life 
for his friend." 

But someone may think I am preaching. Well, 
if I am, I am preaching the gospel of service and 
sacrifice, which to my mind is the greatest gospel 
there is to preach at the present critical hour. I 
am trying to tell men that they can be better men 
wherever they are if they will it so. I have known 
men to go over there from various walks of life, 
some of them from wealthy homes and high sala- 
ried positions to engage in this or that line of work, 
perhaps relieving suffering without getting any- 
thing for their labor, and yet boast that they had 
received more than they had ever gotten in their 
lives before, and it was true. They developed a 
feeling of kinship for the suffering, and a satisfac- 
tion in assuaging their pain which was a greater 
compensation than anything they had ever had or 
could ever have expected. I have known men 
to go over in the very trenches themselves and 
there learn the lesson of self-control and hu- 
mility which is in reality learning to respect the 




■S.t 



The Heroism of the Wounded 121 

rights of other people; men who formerly had 
been accustomed to having their own way in 
life. 

Out there tonight there are wealthy land owners 
standing knee deep In mud and water, side by side 
with their own stable boys and treating them on an 
absolute equality with themselves. It^s a matter 
of life and death out there, and after all when It 
gets down to that very little else counts. A stable 
boy's bullet from the enemy's lines will pick off 
the wealthy magnate as quick as any other's, and 
the rich man's usefulness Is no greater than his 
servant's. In the trenches. So they realize this 
fact and act as though It were true. The only 
place In all the world today where we have a real 
Brotherhood of Man Is in the Allies' trenches on 
the Western front. Men display heroism there; 
but they don't know It. Men are brave out there; 
but they don't think of It. It never enters a man's 
head that he has been a hero, It's all duty, all just 
natural; they couldn't do otherwise. As the 
wounded Frenchman said about the worse 
wounded Paul, " I couldn't let that poor wounded 
fellow bleed to death." There was duty. It had 
to be done. " So I took my socks and pulled them 
on his feet. What else could I do?" 



fI22 ''Back From Hell'' 

After all, heroism and heroes are not always 
shouted from the housetops and oftener they 
pass by unmentioned. But Someone knows. 



CHAPTER XXI 

THE TREACHEROUS "GERMAN SOUVENIR" 

THE word " souvenir" means a remembrance. 
The Huns have certainly left a number of 
things which will be remembrances of them for a 
long time to come. At one of the battles near 

S after a successful charge in which the 

French had succeeded in capturing the first and 
second line German trenches, the boys found some 
of these souvenirs. One of them, a lad of twenty- 
two, picked up a fountain pen which had appar- 
ently been dropped by some soldier in the hasty 
retreat. The young poilu started to examine the 
pen and in doing so unscrewed the cap from it. 
Just as he had it about off, an awful explosion 
occurred and the fellow's face was blown half off, 
and his right hand was torn to pieces. We car- 
ried him to the hospital where he was treated by 
the surgeons but he hardly came to consciousness 
and the next day died in horrible agony. 

Two days later another Frenchman discovered 
a watch hanging on a nail. It was a cheap thing 

123 



124 ''Back From Hell'' 

without any intrinsic value, but when he saw it he 
thought It would be a nice little relic of the war 
and reached up to take it down. It went off with 
a boom and as a result he has no eyes. That will 
be his remembrance of the savage Huns to his 
dying day. He had been through many months of 
war and seen much severe fighting, but the only 
thing he will remember about the enemy is their 
treachery. Sometimes in war even the vanquished 
will praise the gallantry and the bravery of the 
enemy and will acknowledge that the fight was a 
fair one, but all the way through the present conflict 
the evidence against the Germans has been more 
damning and conclusive than has been brought to 
light against the most savage peoples that ever 
lived. Primitive Indians have done some fear- 
fully horrible deeds in days gone by, but the In- 
dian never had a fraction of the Ingenious power 
for deviltry that the followers of Attlla possess. 
A chair was fo«nd In one of the dugouts and when 
a soldier sat In it he was blown to atoms. There 
was not enough left of his body to be recognizable 
and the pieces were gathered together and burled 
in a nameless grave. 

One British Tommy started to move a shovel 
which was found to be connected with wires lead- 



The ^'German Souvenir'' 125 

Ing to a large amount of high explosives. It hap- 
pened that the connection was not good and fortu- 
nately he received no harm, but he came within an 
ace of being blown to pieces. The Germans In 
their retreat left behind them poisoned food and 
flour and very often poisoned the water In the 
wells. No man Is allowed to taste the water 
from any of the wells until It Is thoroughly and 
carefully analyzed for strychnine and other deadly 
poisons. 

On one occasion some Frenchmen saw a pic- 
ture hanging on the wall of a captured dugout. It 
was noticeably crooked and their first Impulse nat- 
urally was to straighten It. For some reason they 
did not do so immediately, but a few minutes later 
a Belgian boy took hold of a corner of It to pull It 
straight. He was killed outright and several 
others were stunned by the terrific explosion which 
crumbled the walls and burled two men with earth. 
The shelling of cathedrals and the burning of 
homes are only Insipid pastimes to the Germans. 

Sometimes clocks are arranged and the explo- 
sions are delayed, and the clock will tick away for 
days before It sets off the treacherous bomb. The 
I. W. W. anarchists have nothing on the Huns for 
sneaking, murderous trickery. Germs of one kind 



126 ''Back From Hell'' 

and another were frequently discovered in bed- 
ding and hay, and all of it had to be burned. The 
placing of germs in court-plaster and bandages in 
this country is but a faint echo of the similar 
atrocious deeds done over there. 

Cases of high explosives were found under road 
beds, so that when any heavy weight passed over 
them they would go off. Men have now been ap- 
pointed to study and investigate all these suspicious 
murder traps and report them, for the double 
purpose of forewarning the Allied soldiers and of 
bringing undisputable evidence into the peace con- 
ference. These enemies of civilized man must 
not be allowed to emerge from this conflict with- 
out a day of reckoning for their deeds, whether 
they be good or whether they be evil. One good 
German I did know of on the Western front, and I 
will not withhold the highest praise from him. His 
name was Kellar. Together with another wounded 
German named Bauman he had been taken pris- 
oner. They were both transported to the hos- 
pital and put into adjoining beds. The hospital 
physician was examining and caring for Bauman, 
and in doing so stepped over to a little stand for 
an instrument, whereupon Bauman drew a con- 
cealed revolver from under the sheet and shot the 



The '^German SouvenW izj 

doctor. Everybody rushed up to see what was the 
matter, but hardly ten seconds passed before Kel- 
lar drew a revolver and shot Bauman dead. He 
then said that his company had orders to con- 
ceal their weapons and do such things, but he said 
he was human, and when he saw the kind and gen- 
tle doctor shot down by the patient whom he was 
caring for, it made him so mad that he didn't care 
if Bauman was a fellow-German, and so he shot 
him and was glad of it. [That man ought to be an 
American. 



CHAPTER XXII 



THE nigger's nose 



THE surgeons in France are doing most won- 
derful things and it must not be forgotten, 
that along with all the awful phases of the war, 
with all the pathos and the horror, there are many 
brighter incidents and many humorous episodes. 

For remember, the war today is just a national 
life. The whole existence of these countries is 
thrown into the war and for the time being, that 
is the natural course of life. So they live for war, 
the same as another nation lives its existence for 
money, art, or anything else. The individual's 
life goes on just the same, only the conditions are 
changed. 

And everybody is equal over there in the Allied 
armies. The English gentleman is fighting beside 
the French negro, or Turko, as he is called, and 
when wounded, lies in the next bed to him. 

It's a wonderfully democratic arrangement. 

One of those negroes amused me greatly. He 
was a big husky fellow with kinky hair and thick 

I2S 



The Nigge/s Nose 129 

lips, a typical negro, only he spoke French Instead 
of English. This French negro had had his nose 
shot entirely off. I had previously helped carry 
him Into the hospital and he was Indeed a dreadful 
sight to behold. A piece of shrapnel had got him 
and he came very nearly " going West." 

But the doctors took him and labored with him 
day after day, and week after week. They took a 
piece of bone out of his side and some skin from 
another place and by working, and grafting, and 
rubbing, they finally brought out a new nose on 
the fellow, and he used to boast In front of his 
black pals that when they got back to Africa he 
would have the edge on all of them with those 
swarthy girls because his comrade's noses were 
big and flat and he now had a better looking one 
In place of his old flat one. 

Many a little Incident of a similar nature hap- 
pens, both In the hospitals and on the field, and 
the men even though badly " cut up " are not all 
the time groaning; and the nurses even though 
very sweet and gentle are not constantly weeping. 
They'd soon be shipped back home If they were. 
They go about their work and do It, just as a doc- 
tor does at home. 

A good many cases of mutilation were found 



I30 ''Back From Hell'' 

which were just as bad as that of the negro, and 
which in the beginning seemed just as hopeless. 
We carried in one British Tommy who had his 
entire lower jaw blown off. He presented a fear- 
ful spectacle. He was put to bed and very care- 
fully prepared and treated to get his body into 
proper shape for the operation. This required 
some days. Then those confident surgeons started 
in on him. Day by day they built a jaw for him, 
taking a piece from here and another from there 
and by skillfully massaging and rubbing they by 
and by, got him fixed up, and then the most skilled 
dentists in the world took him In hand and put in 
teeth for him so that today you cannot discern 
that he was ever badly mutilated. All you can see 
is a little mark from the left corner of his mouth 
and a very small scar from the right corner. He 
lisps just a little also, as his tongue was partly 
shot away. 

In cases where the limbs are fractured, or where 
certain positions must be maintained while the 
patient Is lying In bed, a clever device has been 
arranged. 

A frame which holds up the several parts of 
the body Is attached to the bed, or Is a part of 
the bed, and In this frame are many pulleys with 



The Nigger's Nose 1311 

ropes and weights attachexi. When the wounded 
soldier who is all "broken up" Is laid in this bed, 
his arm is laid in a form, and the form is lifted 
to the proper position and held there by the weight 
over the pulley. Some positions are necessary for 
rapid healing; some are necessary for comfort or 
for avoiding intense pain. By this arrangement, 
invented by Dr. Alexis Carrel, any portion of the 
body can be lifted to any height or angle and kept 
there as long as necessary. It is a very ingenious 
apparatus, at the same time simple and of inesti- 
mable value. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

GETTING BY THE CONSULS 

FROM the very beginning I had had an over- 
whelming desire to go to Belgium. Some- 
how that country has gripped the imagination of 
the world and mine as well. Neither did I think 
of any of the drawbacks, but simply said, " I'm 
going to Belgium for relief work." I had not 
been successful In being assigned to any unit 
before I left the States, so I started for France 
en route for Belgium on my own initiative. Mr. 
Bryan gave me a passport, but when I arrived in 
France Ambassador Sharp urged me to remain 
and serve there, as he thought it would be ex- 
tremely difficult to get Into Belgium when men 
were needed In France, and while I did as he ad- 
vised, I never gave up the idea of going to Bel- 
gium. I had seen enough of German Kultur to 
whet my appetite and change my peaceful views, 
but now I wanted to get the evidence from the 
Huns themselves In the country which they were 
governing. Consequently it was this, which at 



Getting By the Consuls 133 

the time impelled me to ask for a leave of absence 
and to apply for a pass out of France. I wanted 
to go to Belgium, but now for a different purpose 
than formerly. 

I got a ten days' leave, but the only possible 
way of going was by way of England, thence to 
Holland, and from there over the Belgium border. 
I had my troubles. Of course I kept pretty mum 
as to where I intended to go. I went to the Ameri- 
can Consul and got my passport vise, that is, 
stamped or O. K.'d. I then had to go to the 
French Consul and ask him to vise my passport. 
Inasmuch as I was going to England, which was 
an allied country, it was not very difficult to per- 
suade the French Consul to let me go. I then 
had to go to the English Consul and get his con- 
sent to enter England. He did not seem very 
formidable and I finally got past him also. My 
reason for going to England I told him, was " en 
route to Holland." You have to have a reason 
for doing everything. But since England was not 
my destination, but only '' en route," my reason 
did not need to be very definite and was accepted. 

When I got to Dieppe, a British soldier or 
young officer I believe he was, who had had sev- 
eral "Bass' Ales," took me under his wing and 



134 ''Back From Hell'' 

undertook to see me through. He told the cus- 
toms man that I was one of their boys from the 
front and all right, as I was going home to 
Blighty. Consequently I had little difficulty there. 
I was still wearing my ambulance uniform, which 
much resembled theirs, although I had a civilian 
suit in my grip. I wore the uniform so as to get 
the benefit of the special rate on the railroad, 
namely, one-fourth fare. As I sat down to have 
a chat with this Englishman he was so good to me 
that I got quite confidential. We had been talk- 
ing about the brutalities of the Germans in Bel- 
gium. I said, " I'm on my way to Belgium now, 
Fm going around behind the German lines to see 
the Huns as they are." "You don't say so !" said 
he. " Yes," I said, " I'm going over to Belgium to 
see with my own eyes the picture of devastation." 
He didn't take it well. He got a little excited and 
said, *' Well you better not, in fact I'll see to it 
that you don't go over to the German lines. I'll 
have you know that we're not funnin' in this busi- 
ness." I saw that I had got in bad. I always did 
have trouble In that way. I couldn't keep my 
mouth shut and whenever I opened it I put my 
foot in it. I began to back up. I don't remem- 
ber just what I said, but I suddenly became very 




A HURRY CALL. "CLEAR THE TRACK. 




'JUMBO," THE BIGGEST AMBULANCE ON THE 
WESTERN FRONT. 

The author is the second man on the left. 



Getting By the Consuls 135 

conciliatory and gave him to understand that I'd 
far rather take his judgment on the matter, and if 
he thought I had better not go, why, of course, I 
wouldn't do it. I think he almost forgot it after a 
bit, but to make sure I opened up my grip and took 
out half a pound of smoking tobacco which I had 
drawn gratis at the Ambulance, contribute4 by his 
own countrymen, the Overseas Club, and with all 
the ceremonies, presented it to him. 

That tobacco (added to the ale) caused him to 
completely forget my purpose, and as the boat 
whistled off from the dock, he waved me a merry 
" Best 'o Luck." 

But I thought many a time how close I came 
to being balked, by my tongue. A word from him 
to headquarters would have cooked the whole 
game. 

On the water the night was very stormy. I 
guess all nights are on the English channel, but 
this one was particularly so. It rained all the way. 
It was a four-hour trip, and while I am an excel- 
lent sailor and had never been sick in crossing the 
ocean, I was fearfully sick that night. The next 
day I was in London. 

What was the procedure? I was told by some- 
body, that wherever I was going I would surely 



136 ''Back From Hell'' 

be held three days in England. I went to the 
American Consul. I wanted my passport vise 
for Holland. My reasons? Well, I couldn't say 
" en route '' anymore because they don't approve 
of people going through Holland to the enemy. 
Going to Holland, what for? Why, naturally, to 
see my old friend and professor. Doctor Henry 
Van Dyke, American Minister there. Of course 
the doctor didn't know I was coming, and wouldn't 
have remembered me anyway. But nevertheless 
I had conceived a sudden and irresistible desire to 
visit him. 

A young fellow by the name of Ripley Wilson, 
about my own age, was vice-consul. He waited 
on me, but he did not seem satisfied with my expla- 
nations, or my reasons for wanting to go to Hol- 
land. He talked and argued and hemmed and 
hawed, and finally said, "What is your real object 
in going to Holland, Mr. Benson?" I answered, 
*' I have told you that I am going over to visit my 
old professor, Doctor Van Dyke." Then he tried 
to trap me. He said, " Oh, did you go to Har- 
vard?" I said, "No, sir." He said, "Then 
where did you know him?" I said, "Dr. Van 
Dyke never taught in Harvard. I knew him at 
Princeton, naturally, the place where he taught." 



Getting By the Consuls 137 

This kind of floored him, but still he persisted. 
" But, Mr. Benson, what would anybody say about 
such a reason as you give, * going to Holland to 
visit a friend in war time ? ' " 

I saw the situation. Ripley Wilson just needed 
a little domineering, and for the first time in my 
life I was a little saucy to a diplomatic officer. I 
said, " Mr. Wilson, I have told you what I am 
going to Holland for, and furthermore what 
would anybody say about you asking me so many 
petty questions? Wouldn^t they say it was none 
of your business ? '* It worked. 

In a few minutes I had his signature and stamp 
on my passport, and we bade each other a good- 
natured good-bye. Then I had to go to the Brit- 
ish foreign office to get their permission to leave, 
and that was not so easy. The young fellow who 
first handled the case asked me a lot of similar 
questions and I answered them in the same way. 
Then he asked me if I was going to try to go to 
Belgium when I got to Holland. " Why, I hadn't 
thought of It," I replied. All the time with a 
straight face. After a while he went into another 
room and presently returned and asked me to 
come back at four o'clock, as I had better have a 
personal talk with the colonel. 



138 ''Back From HeW' 

I went up to Trafalgar Square and saw the mili- 
tary demonstrations and then went up the Strand 
and looked about a bit, and at four o'clock went 
back to Whitehall. I was ushered into the pres- 
ence of the colonel. He was in all his glory. 
Trappings of every kind adorned his person, 
shoulder straps and all. But surprising as it was 
to me, he was not at all officious and I had a very 
pleasant hour with him. At first he was a little 
curious. He wanted to know my reasons for going 
to Holland and so forth, but after a little he be- 
came very cordial and said, they simply wanted 
to be careful, as people going to Holland were get- 
ting very near the enemy and might tell something 
even unwittingly which would hurt the cause. He 
then said he would get me a special permit to go 
that night on a certain boat on the Zelande Line at 
eight o'clock. He called Mr. Haldane-Porter 
on the telephone and told him he was sending me 
over, and also gave me a letter to him requesting 
him to give me his special pass. I later figured out 
that It wasn't any special honor at all that he was 
favoring me with, but that his words and actions 
meant I was to go at the hour he said and on the 
boat he indicated and have every movement I 
made thoroughly known to Scotland Yard. 



Getting By the Consuls 139 

Nevertheless I felt fortunate and glad. Then 
I had to go to the Dutch Consul In London and 
get his permit to enter his country. He was neu- 
tral and didn't give a rap where I went, so I didn't 
have to spend much time on him, but only ninety 
cents. My khaki uniform I checked at the North 
London Railway. I didn't care to have any khaki 
about me when I went to Germany. They don't 
like it over there. I stuck the check In a safe 
hiding place In the back of a book of cigarette 
papers which a poilu had given me as a souvenir. 
Then I caught my boat and sailed for Holland. 
On the boat I noticed a sign saying that no letters 
were to be carried across, on pain of summary 
justice. It scared me, as I had several letters that 
I did not want to part with. Two were addressed 
to Brand Whitlock, the American Minister In 
Brussels, and one to a woman who Is the mother 
of one of my ecclesiastical flock In America. 
Nevertheless, I kept them. 

When I got to Holland I went straight to The 
Hague. The first thing I did was to have two 
photographs taken, one with my arm band on my 
sleeve, and the other without It. Doctor Van 
Dyke I found In his office, and his son also, who 
remembered me In college. However, the doctor 



I40 ''Back From Hell" 

said that he had serious doubts whether I could 
get Into Belgium. He recently had received word 
from Mr. Whitlock to be very careful about let- 
ting people come over from Holland, as there was 
not much for them to do and they often made a lot 
of trouble. 

The Doctor suggested that I write Mr. Whit- 
lock and ask him If he had something for me to do 
in the relief work. Well, as a matter of fact, I 
did not want to do this. There were two reasons. 
One was that I knew it would take a week to get a 
reply, and I did not want to wait. The other was 
I was afraid he might say no, thus effectually block- 
ing my plans and hopes. I wanted to get to Bel- 
gium above all things. At last, Dr. Van Dyke said 
he did not feel he should be the one to vise my pass- 
port, but I had better go down and have a talk 
with Colonel LIstoe at Rotterdam. He was the 
real official who should do It, being the closest to 
the border, but the Doctor was doubtful if he 
would do It. I gathered from the conversation 
that he and the Colonel were very Intimate friends. 
I then went to a hotel, VAmericain, on the 
Wagonstraat and went to bed to sleep over it. 
The next morning a happy thought struck me. I 
said to myself, " I'll try some diplomacy on these 



Getting By the Consuls 1411 

diplomats." Again I went over to Dr. Van Dyke's 
office, and said, *' Doctor, I haven't much identifi- 
cation, and I wonder if you would be willing to 
give me a note saying that I am the person I pur- 
port to be, and an American citizen. He said, 
" Why certainly," arid wrote me such a note on the 
official stationery. I put the note into my pocket, 
gleefully. I forgot to tell him that I had come 
all the way from France and England to have a 
visit with him, but nevertheless I had had it. I 
now thanked him and bade him good-bye. I 
hastened by electric to Rotterdam, and hunted up 
the American Consulate. I knocked on the door 
and asked, "Is Colonel Listoe in?" "Yes, the 
name, please?" "Mr. Benson." A man rose and 
stepped cordially forward to greet me. I said, 
" Colonel Listoe, I believe, I just came down from 
my old friend. Doctor Van Dyke ; I was under him 
at college, and his son was in my class. I have 
a letter from him here and I am going over to 
Belgium." 

" Oh, oh. Dr. Van Dyke ; well, well, to be sure ! '* 
He took my passport and had the vice-consul vise 
It before ever he looked at the note. Then while 
I was getting out the letter I explained that it 
was just a formal note of identification; but my 



142 ''Back From Hell'' 

passport was already fixed and everything was 
fine. 

I chatted with him for an hour, smoked one of 
his fine black cigars and, of course, found him a 
delightful man. Then I said, " Colonel, is there 
anything else I need to do before I can go to Bel- 
gium?" "Oh, by George I" he said, slapping 
himself upon the knee, " I almost forgot the most 
important part. Sure, you must go over to the 
German Consuls and get their consent, and go be- 
fore four o'clock." Ah! there was the rub. I 
knew it. But I went. And I had some whale of 
a time getting their consent, too. When I went 
Into the room there were six of them sitting behind 
the table. I went up to the first one and told him 
I wanted to go to Belgium. I was now in my civil- 
ian clothes and I had put the set of photographs 
with the Red Cross arm band on. In my left 
pocket and the set without the arm band in my 
right pocket. The man asked me, "What do you 
want to go to Belgium for?" I replied: " Re- 
lief work." "What kind?" "Red Cross." "Are 
you a Red Cross man?" "Yes, sir." " Have 
you a commission?" "N-n-no." "How do you 
prove you are a Red Cross man?" I began fum- 
bling for my photographs. For the life of me I 



Getting By the Consuls 143 

couldn't tell which kind were in which pocket. I 
reached and shuffled, and turned red, and pulled 
out — the wrong one ! Well, it didn't make much 
difference. I said, " That's just a civilian picture for 
putting on my passports, but here is my Red Cross 
picture." Then I pulled the other on him. He 
seemed satisfied. That Red Cross on the sleeve 
seemed to do the business. He said "You will 
offer yourself to the Red Cross in Belgium?" I 
said, "Yes, sir." When he was about finished, 
another consul passing by became curious. He 
said, "What is it this man wants?" And about 
the time I had satisfied him, still another came. 
And if you don't think it is some job to convince 
six Germans to be of the same mind at the same 
moment, try it sometime. The man finally said, " I 
shall write it on your passport that you will offer 
yourself to the Red Cross in Belgium?" I 
knew that he meant business, and if it was written 
on there it meant for me to do it, but I was ready 
to do anything. I wanted to get into Belgium. I 
had been five days making the trip up to the doors 
of Belgium, a trip that would take ten hours 
ordinarily, and I did not want to be balked. I 
said, "Yes, sir, you may write it on my passport." 
He did it, too. He then said, "Eight marks I" 



144 ''Back From Heir' 

and I fished out two dollars. That passport is one 
of my valued souvenirs today. I was now getting 
poor, as every consul had been bleeding me both 
to leave and to enter his countjry. The Americans 
were the only ones whose stamp was free. My 
pass was given me to Brussels and the next morn- 
ing I embarked. When we crossed the border 
a mile or two In, the train stopped at Esschen. 
Most of the cars were locked and the passengers, 
a few at a time, were taken out and searched. I 
was among them, and It was not a pleasant sensa- 
tion. But I was In Belgium, had come from the 
enemy and had literally bluffed my way through. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

A CLOSE SHAVE 

ON MY way to Brussels I had to pass through 
Antwerp. My pass allowed me to go to 
Brussels — and nowhere else. But as the train 
stopped at six o'clock In the evening at Antwerp, 
and I learned that It would be there about three 
hours, I got off and asked the Germans who 
guarded the gate if I might stay In Antwerp over 
night. They told me that I had plenty of time 
and I might go down to the Kommandantur of 
the city and make my request. I did so. 

"Herr Kommandantur" was a big, bull-necked, 
red-faced fellow who responded to my request 
with the grunted word, Warum? When I ex- 
plained why I wanted to stay he asked me sev- 
eral questions about myself and wrote down the 
charges against me, and finally said If I would 
give him a quarter I could stay overnight — no, 
that was not exactly the way he said it, either. He 
did not speak English anyway, but after writing 
down all these answers, he said in a harsh, guttural 



146 ''Back From Heir' 

tone, Fine Mark! I took the hint, and it didn't 
take long for me to produce the quarter. He 
then handed me the paper, which said that I was 
permitted to leave Antwerp and go to Brussels 
the following day. That was all I wanted. I 
wanted to see Antwerp — but I also wanted to go 
on, when I got ready. I had to have that paper 
then, permitting me to go on the morrow, or else 
I'd " find out the meaning of German authority ! " 
The next morning I took a walk to have a look 
about. I had already, on the previous day, as I 
came into Antwerp, witnessed many towns lying 
in ruins, the remains of which I could see from the 
car window. But when I went out into the town 
of Antwerp, I learned just what the German could 
do in the way of vandalism and ruthlessness. I 
saw the forts which they had bombarded for three 
days, on the third day of which they had tossed 
over those forty-two centimeter shells at the rate 
of one every five seconds all day and all night. 
The destruction was terrific. I came back to the 
center of the city and went into a little cafe to 
get some lunch. The woman who kept the place 
showed me two big pieces of iron and steel, chunks 
which must have weighed ten to fifteen pounds 
apiece, which she had found in her bed after the 



A Close Shave 147 

bombardment ceased, and she tpld me with tears 
in her eyes that later, after the capture of the 
town, the German officers outraged her daughter. 

Fortunately, the woman had not been sleeping 
at home at the time, but had been over with her 
sister, otherwise she would not have shown any- 
body those iron relics. It was a close shave. This 
woman was very kind to me, and the only reason 
I do not mention her name, and many other 
names of Belgian people, who were courteous and 
helpful to me, is that some pro-German would 
very likely report them and have them harassed by 
the military governors there. 

These governors are most thorough in their 
policy of persecution and inquisition, the same as 
in their scientific research, and I often hold my- 
self back from telling names of Belgian people 
who were hospitable to me, for their own safety. 
When the war is over I shall write them all and 
try to demonstrate my deep appreciation. They 
bore up so nobly when their kinfolk were killed, 
their homes destroyed, and their country de- 
vastated. As soon as I got to Brussels I called on 
the American minister. 



CHAPTER XXV 

MEETING BRAND WHITLOCK 

A DIPLOMATIC officer Is a peculiar Indi- 
vidual. I wish I were one — sometimes. I 
wouldn't have liked to be Brand Whitlock, how- 
ever, when this war broke out. He had been liv- 
ing a quiet, peaceful existence in that wonderful 
city of Brussels, no doubt having a good time in 
general, when suddenly and without warning the 
country was Invaded by hordes of hostile Ger- 
mans, who bombarded the cities, burned the ham- 
lets, and slaughtered the people in large numbers, 
driving others by thousands from their homes and 
out of their country. Then the conqueror began 
oppressing the captive people, and Brand Whit- 
lock had to act as Intermediary. Besides this, he 
had to defend himself from those other hordes 
from the outside; I mean the Americans who 
bombarded him with offers to come over and help 
care for the poor, starving Belgians. I was one 
of them. Their motives were excellent, but their 
judgment was questionable, and It never seemed 

148 • 



Meeting Brand Whitlock 149 

to enter their heads that if thousands of them went 
over to care for the starving Belgians, it would 
take a large amount of food to keep them, before 
ever the Belgians got any. Furthermore, the 
Germans did not like Americans in the country, 
seeing what they had done to Belgium. It wasn't 
pleasant to have them around. They arrested 
them and harassed them and caused a lot of 
trouble. No wonder Mr. Whitlock wrote to Dr. 
Van Dyke asking him to be very careful about 
sending Americans over. But I am a persistent 
person. 

When I got to Brussels I went to call on this 
same minister. I did possess two personal let- 
ters addressed to him from American Congress- 
men who were good friends of Mr. Whitlock. 
And I felt it would be a shame not to deliver them. 

But the young lady who received the visitors 
asked me what I wanted to see him about. I 
replied, "On business." She said, "He is very 
busy.'' I asked, " Is he too busy to attend to busi- 
ness?" "Well," she answered, "I don't believe 
he could see you." 

I responded, "Say, my young lady, I am an 
American citizen, a stranger In a strange land. I 
am among a people who are not particularly 



I50 ''Back From HeW 

friendly, as I have already learned. They are 
the bosses over here. I am expecting to be about 
in this country somewhat, and I feel I have a 
right to be known by the American Minister. If 
anything happens to me, I want him to be able to 
Identify me. Our diplomatic officers are sent 
here by the United States, paid by the people, to 
look after our interests, and our traveling citizens, 
and then when we come here the secretary says he 
cannot see us. Why is It ? " 

This evidently made some impression, for she 
said finally, "Well, if you will come back In the 
afternoon, I suppose you can see him." 

I went away then, saying, " I certainly expect to 
see him." In the afternoon I did. I found Mr. 
Whitlock the most genial man in the world. He 
had plenty of time to be civil and obliging and to 
chat a while, although I did not abuse the privi- 
lege. I told him I wanted him to know me, and I 
delivered the letters. As I left he stamped my 
passport and said, '* Come in again when you can, 
Mr. Benson." I had occasion to do so — before 
long. 



CHAPTER XXVI 

MY MAPS OF BELGIUM 

ON LEAVING Mr. Whitlock I went down 
town and engaged a room at a little private 
hotel for the duration of my stay in Brussels. One 
day shortly afterwards, while I was sitting in a 
cafe of the little hotel, a neighbor of the proprietor 
came in and I was introduced to him. He was 
a very likable fellow, and we had a half hour's 
pleasant chat, at least it was pleasant for me. I 
am not so sure it was as pleasant for him, for I 
was certainly an artist at butchering up the King's 
French. 

As he arose to go out he bid me au revoir 
and stopped for a moment to speak confidentially 
to the madame who ran the place. After he had 
departed she told me that the man was a regular 
customer of theirs who lived down the street, and 
that he was a printer by trade. His particular line 
of printing was that of map making, and he had 
told the landlady that he would like to make me 
a present of some nice maps of Belgium If I 

isi 



152 ''Back From Heir' 

would accept them. He wanted to show his ap- 
preciation for the assistance of America. I said, 
"That would be very fine and I would certainly 
be glad to have them, both for their instructive 
value as well as a memento of the giver." 

Accordingly, the next day the man came over 
with his maps In his hand and gave them to me. 
They were not large and could be conveniently 
folded and put into the pocket, but they were un- 
usually complete and really very excellent guides 
to the country. I took them and thanked him, 
looking them over admiringly and putting them 
into my inside pocket. 

Thereafter when I talked with the Belgian peo- 
ple about the geography of the country, I fre- 
quently consulted my map in order to fasten in 
mind the location of the different towns. My own 
study of geography In my earlier days had been 
sadly neglected or forgotten, so I found these 
very useful gifts. It was quite natural that peo- 
ple. In talking with me about the brutality of the 
Germans, should mention towns where the most 
glaring atrocities had been perpetrated. I had 
also read the Bryce report and the names of cer- 
tain towns stood out distinctly In my memory. 
These places I marked with a cross on the map. 



My Maps of Belgium 153 

so as to be sure to visit them, and later, when I 
visited other destroyed villages or cities, I marked 
them also, so that later in life I might glance over 
the maps and easily recall the experiences in each 
of the places. I thought I had a very nice memento 
which would always call up vivid recollections. 
Certain places had been already specially marked 
in the making of the map by having circles of 
stars around the town which I did not exactly un- 
derstand, but supposing they were important 
cities or capitals of provinces, I was particular to 
put a cross there as a place which I ought to visit, 
which I did in most cases. In, fact, before I had 
completed my tour of the country I had the maps 
pretty well crossed up, especially in the more im- 
portant centers throughout the ruined districts. 

One striking thing in scanning the maps was 
that I had not marked a single place which was 
not in the devastated area, plainly indicating that 
I had made a careful point of traveling only 
through the parts which the Germans had de- 
stroyed and going only to the worst desolated 
places at that. In other words, by a glance at my 
map you could follow my itinerary practically as 
easily as you can follow a rabbit in the snow by 
his tracks. 



154 ''Back From Hell'' 

Many a time I contemplated looking back with 
pleasure and explaining to my American friends 
in years to come and to my grandchildren, when 
my hair should be gray, how I had bluffed my 
way through the German lines and observed the 
country and the German rule while he was still in 
possession. It would be a thing of which few 
men could boast, since it was against the military 
policy of every country to allow anybody to come 
from the enemy and go through their land and 
then go back to the enemy again. That was 
unheard of. Yet inwardly It was my Intention, 
and, in fact, I had no other Idea than that I 
should accomplish it successfully. Consequently 
I wrote down nothing. I mean I kept no diary on 
paper and I wrote no letters. I had many friends 
in France who would have liked to have a word 
from me, and also my folks in America expected 
me to write them letters for news and for sou- 
venirs, but I was afraid to attempt to send any 
word to them, even indirectly through Holland, 
as I feared the Germans would open all mail, and 
finding me In touch with France, would decide that 
I intended returning there and then would see to 
It that I did not. Everything that I saw and heard 
in Belgium, all the Information I received, was 



My Maps of Belgium 155 

in my head and not on paper, as I felt that would 
save me much trouble; so I merely marked the 
maps with little crosses. 



CHAPTER XXVII 

THE *'CAT AND MOUSE'' GAME 

AT LENGTH I went to the German Pass of- 
fice in Brussels. It was called the '^ Pass- 
Zentrale/^ up in the Rue Royale, only a block from 
the King's palace. I there applied for a pass to 
Liege. I was told by the sentry to come back in 
the afternoon, at three o'clock. The office is only 
open from nine till twelve and from three to six. 
I went back at three. A young *' smart aleck" of 
the name of Klenkum took my American passport 
from me and told me to come back the next morn- 
ing between ten and eleven, giving me, as he spoke, 
a slip of paper which read, Zwischen zehn und 
elf. I went back next day and handed Klenkum 
the slip of paper, which he saucily laid on the 
other side of the desk and wrote another, telling 
me to come back in two days, or Sunday between 
ten and eleven. I was angry. He saw it, and said, 
"Prisoner, eh?" I did not answer. And so as 
I opened the door he rubbed it in, saying, Sehr 
gut, ehf With a sickly smile on my face, I re- 

156 



The'' Cat and Mouse'' Game 157 

plied, "Yes, very good," and went out. But I 
was simply boiling. I went to the office of Von 
Bissing and had quite a talk with him, but nothing 
came of it. I then went up to Mr. Whitlock and 
told him what they were doing with me. I said 
the Germans were keeping my American pass- 
port, which was a breach of international law, and 
playing a kind of "cat and mouse" game with 
me. Immediately he wrote a letter curtly de- 
manding my passport and ordering them to give 
me a pass where I wanted to go. I took this let- 
ter up and delivered it at headquarters. Well, 
they ignored the letter entirely, and the pass was 
given me at the last moment Klenkum had indi- 
cated, namely, eleven o'clock on Sunday. But 
Klenkum was not the particular man who handed 
it to me. He sent me into another room to a 
higher officer. My pass was handed me by an Im- 
portant personage. 

I was then given some Instructions by no less a 
person than Von Bissing himself. But I had kept 
the road hot in front of the King's palace, between 
Mr. Whitlock's office, corner Rue de Treves and 
Rue Belliard, and the German Pass-Zentrah 
in the Rue Royale. This heckling, harassing 
policy of duplicity was the one which the Ger- 



158 ''Back From Heir' 

man Government constantly employed, and when 
one reflects a moment and makes comparisons, 
he finds that it is the same policy which they have 
used in their diplomatic notes and business with 
the United States ever since the war began. It is 
almost impossible to pin them down to anything, 
and have any guarantee that they will keep their 
word. 

As Viellaur, the officer in charge, finally 
handed me the passports, I jokingly said to him, 
"There's a good deal of red tape about getting a 
pass from the German Government, isn't there?" 

"Well," he said, "of course we think you peo- 
ple are friendly to us, otherwise you wouldn't be 
able to get a pass at all. We conclude," he con- 
tinued, "that you are friends, from what we see 
in the newspapers." I replied, "Well, that's 
about all a person has to go by, just what he sees 
in the newspapers." I left him to draw his own 
conclusions, while I caught the train. 



CHAPTER XXVIII 

SHADOWED AT LIEGE 

AT LIEGE I felt the German espionage sys- 
tem. This city became world famous in a 
week's time when the Hun was pounding at the 
gates. It was the first the world knew of the war. 
The place was fearfully " strafed." It was Sunday 
afternoon when I arrived. Before I could get off 
the train, or rather out of the depot, I had to let 
the German soldiers search me, and they went 
through my clothes with a marvelous thorough- 
ness. When I went to a hotel and was eating my 
supper I found there two Germans in the dining 
room, one of whom was a soldier and one a rail- 
road conductor, talking together. I will not men- 
tion the name of the conductor because if this was 
reported of him it might mean his execution. 
After a few minutes the soldier went away. 

I went on with my supper but before I had fin- 
ished a violent pounding sounded on the door. 
The proprietor, a Belgian, started to answer it, 
while his wife peeped out and saw that two burly 

159 



i6o ''Back From Heir' 

German officers were there. She became excited 
and rushed back, seized my grip, turned out the 
light In the dining room, and bundled me off up- 
stairs with my heart pounding like a steam engine. 

I did not know what was up. 

Now, either the German Secret Service had 
shadowed me all the way from Brussels, or per- 
haps every step of the way since I entered the coun- 
try, or else that soldier had gone out and reported 
me. Those officers demanded of the proprietor if 
there was an American in his house and if so what 
he was doing there. I don't know what answer he 
gave them, but after a while they went away. 

I then had the most enlightening and frank 
talk with that civilian German conductor that I 
have ever had with a German since this war be- 
gan. The Belgian hotel proprietor had known 
him for several months as a guest, and told me 
that I could trust the man. 

In the conversation the German said, "War is 
a terrible thing. It is no good for common men 
like me." 

"Whynot?"IaskedhIm. 

"Why," said he, "I have a wife and two chil- 
dren at home, and If I go out and get killed what 
becomes of them?" 



Shadowed at Liege i6i 

I said, "Won't the Kaiser take care of them?" 

"Humph," he grunted, Der Kaiser! And he 
put his fingers in his ears to indicate that the 
Kaiser would be deaf to their appeals. He con- 
tinued, Der Krieg ist gut fiir die oberen Zehn- 
Tausend, ja, jaf aber es ist nicht gut fiir diejenigen 
welche kdmpfen. "War is good for the upper 
ten thousand, yes, yes! but It is no good for the 
ones who do the fighting." I said, " You wouldn't 
dare to say these things when that soldier was 
here, or In front of military men, would you?" 

Neiriy natUrlich nicht. Aber sie sind ein guter 
Kamerad. " No, naturally not. But you are a 
good comrade." 

This little talk In which he said that kings and 
kaisers all ought to be dethroned, gave me an 
idea that there must be multitudes of men who feel 
the same, but because their souls are not their own, 
dare not give voice to it. I told the man that 
Americans could not understand how the Germans 
could enter the country and do the frightful things 
that they have done to the unoffending Belgians. 
I said we had thousands of kind and peaceable 
Germans in America, and many of them were 
among our best citizens. " Ah," said he, " It Is the 
discipline. These German soldiers were once 



l62 ''Back From Heir' 

peaceable and kind citizens also, having families 
like myself, but the discipline of the army has 
made them warlike and unmerciful. After one 
year in the Kaiser's army they still have some 
heart left, after two years less, after three or four 
years of that discipline they have no heart at all." 

Another German, a soldier, then came in and 
my German friend shut up like a clam. So did I. 

I went out next morning and saw the ashes and 
ruins into which the Germans had plunged the 
city and I had a talk with one Belgian man who 
had been made an atheist by the crushing experi- 
ence. As I spoke with him, hearing his terrible 
tale, and seeing from his shop window dozens of 
homes which were burned down, and beautiful 
buildings deliberately desecrated, my faith in God 
did not diminish, but my confidence in my own 
former pacifism did, and I felt a growing faith in 
militancy when dealing with the German who re- 
spects nothing on earth but force. I was day by 
day realizing that he must be dealt with on his own 
grounds and with his own weapons. It was hard 
for me to come to this position but the cold and 
cruel facts were forcing it upon me. 



CHAPTER XXIX 

RESULTS OF " FRIGHTFULNESS " 

WHEN VIellaur had given me my passport to 
Liege he had told me orally to come back 
by the same route I went. But it did not say 
so in the paper itself, and I ignored his instructions. 
I took an extended trip south in Belgium and I 
learned on this instructive but sad journey, just how 
the Germans hound the Belgian people and make 
life miserable for them. If the Belgians show any 
resentment whatever, they are arrested as sedi- 
tious persons and usually deported to Germany 
to work in the fields or ammunition factories. I 
saw many instances where German ofEcers or sol- 
diers entered the homes of people and commanded 
the owners to stand back while they searched the 
place, and if mayhap, they found a letter from 
some friend in the house which had any complaints 
or any sentiment against the German invasion, 
the people were arrested and their existence made 
even more unhappy. 

On this tour I also experienced something of the 
163 



i64 ''Back From Heir' 

hard conditions from scarcity of food, and in the 
home of Madame Beauvoit, in southern Belgium, 
the mother of one of my parishioners in the States, 
I ate black bread the like of which I have never 
eaten before. I delivered a note to her from her 
daughter and stayed at her house overnight, but I 
could stay no longer as I was conscious that I was 
eating up her living. She told me at supper that 
they were only allowed ten ounces per day of that 
bread, bad as it was. I could hardly push the next 
swallow down my throat, for I was eating the life 
of that woman. I also observed the marvelous 
working of Mr. Hoover's food commission under 
the management of Mr. Whitlock and Hugh Gib- 
son, and it was a wonderful organization and 
certainly an inspiring sight. 

But during those days I looked upon scenes and 
witnessed spectacles which break the heart, and I 
had opportunities of talking with Belgian people 
in their homes, where I stayed for meals, or in 
which I slept, and they told me heart-rending tales 
of the experiences they had gone through. 

For hours sometimes I would talk with them, 
and the information which I thus obtained was 
most enlightening. They often handed me their 
cards also, sometimes requesting me to learn if pos- 



Results of '' Frightfulness'' 165 

slble the whereabouts of their relatives, for thou- 
sands of them had fled, and been scattered afar. 
This journey gave me an insight into the motives of 
the German military men. One day I stopped at 
the little town of Dinant. There I saw a place of 
devastation so complete that even the ruins of 
volcano-destroyed Pompeii, could not compare 
with it. An aged man who was walking by, 
stopped and began to talk to me. I felt so sad on 
seeing the awful picture that I could hardly talk. 
In fact, as I stepped off the train I had burst into 
sobs. My ears, however, were alert and I greed- 
ily drank in his awful tale. The man pointed out 
a wall of solid rock which, was riddled with bullet 
holes. I stuck my finger into one of these holes 
and worked out a piece of stone, covered with 
blood from some poor man's heart. I still have it. 
He explained that more than one hundred Inno- 
cent Belgians had been lined up against that wall 
and shot to death for no offense whatever. He 
also said that in some places where the Belgian 
people resented the Invasion of their homes they 
were dragged out and lined up, and every third 
man was shot down to set an example to the peo- 
ple. The captain would count, "One — two — 
three ! " and the firing squad would shoot a man. 



1 66 ''Back From Hell" 

Then again " One — two — three, shoot ! " ** One 
— two — three, shoot!" 

Out on the public square of Dinant, more than 
four hundred of the civilians of the town were 
herded together, having been dragged from their 
homes or seized upon the streets. They were 
huddled In that square and ropes were stretched 
around the company. Then the German machine 
gun captain standing a score of yards away, on the 
word of command, opened up that death-dealing 
device which shoots more than eight hundred times 
a minute, and mowed down that crowd of people 
on the public square as though It had been cattle in 
a slaughter house. Nor did the German Govern- 
ment Itself deny these things. In fact It admitted 
innocent slaughter. In some cases. But It sought to 
justify it as a means to Its military goal. The 
German White Book Itself speaks of the measures 
taken at Dinant. It says that the German soldiers 
were repairing a bridge which the Belgians had 
destroyed to prevent the Germans from coming 
Into their town. But the enemy finally took the 
place and as they worked on the bridge (so the 
German version reads) some Belgians fired upon 
them from the roofs of the houses In the vicinity. 
Whereupon the soldiers caught all the Belgian 



Results of '' Frightfulness'' 167 

people they could find upon the street, lined them 
up against the wall, and announced that if there 
was any further firing, these people would all be 
killed. The report says, " Still the firing continued, 
and then we shot the innocent people. We had to 
do it, otherwise our words would have been but an 
idle threat. We were compelled to do these 
things In order to accomplish our military goal, 
which must be achieved at all costs." 

And with this ideal in view, they raged through 
the land leaving it little more than a pile of black- 
ened brick and ashes soaked in blood. I went to 
Louvain, to Mons, and Charleroi, to Namur and 
Haecht and Aerschot in like manner, and in these 
places also I saw and heard such heart-breaking 
things. These acts were the result of the policy 
of " frightfulness " which the Germans had been 
taught thoroughly. After sufficient experience 
with this sort of thing and being sickened with it 
all, I finally turned my face back toward the 
north. 



o 



CHAPTER XXX 

MY MENTAL PROCESSES 

F COURSE I did not know what was ahead 
of me, but I knew from the experiences 
which were back of me how I felt toward the 
Germans. I had gotten so that every time a Ger- 
man soldier passed me on the street with his arro- 
gant and hardened attitude, I muttered the words, 
*'The scourge," under my breath. I had seen the 
invariable results of his Kultur and they had in 
every case been sordid and degrading. Hence- 
forth I could not look upon him with anything 
else than contempt and hatred. The vandalism 
which I had seen and the terrible crimes that I 
had learned of, aroused in me something that 
I had not realized before. An anger such as 
seldom. comes to men and such as I had not sus- 
pected my pacifist nature capable of, now seized 
hold of me. I vowed in my secret self that if 
I ever got out alive I would throw the weight 
of my small influence against that inhuman 
machine. 

168 , 



My Mental Processes 169 

The Good Book speaks of a " righteous indigna- 
tion," and if ever there was such a thing in the 
heart of a human I believe it had possession of 
me then. Nor was it a momentary Impulse. I 
had grimly and deliberately gone from place to 
place, day after day, for the purpose of collecting 
unbiased facts and Impressions and these latter 
had taken their own course In my heart and brain. 
Of course I wrote nothing down. I made no at- 
tempt to get a single letter out of Belgium during 
all the time that I was there. I was afraid that 
it would get me into trouble when I came to 
leave. I kept no diary whatever. I needed none. 
All the things which I have related have been from 
memory, but these facts were so vividly burned 
into my soul that they will never be forgotten 
unless my faculty of memory be permanently de- 
stroyed. I did not write down the Impressions 
which came to me, or the process of conversion 
which was constantly taking place within my being. 
I dared not commit these things to paper. I real- 
ized that I was in the hands of a powerful and 
terrible people who would show no mercy upon 
one who was not in sympathy with its aims and 
methods. Nevertheless, I swore that if I ever 
got free from them I would tell the world the 



I70 ''Back From Heir' 

facts and do everything within my power to thwart 
them and their purposes. 

Before I had left the States I had not only been 
a pacifist, but I had been neutral as well. Any 
person in my former congregation could testify 
that I never spoke one word from the platform 
against the Germans, but now I have no hesitation 
in condemning them with vehemence and oppos- 
ing them with violence. It might seem to some as 
though this was a strange attitude for a minister 
of Christ to take, but I was led on as inevitably to 
this position as the compass needle seeks the pole. 
I had no choice. I could not help myself, but to- 
day I am proud to state that I accepted this conclu- 
sion and that deliberately and boldly I will de- 
fend it. 

In a Utopian world one can act in a Utopian 
manner. And a Utopian world is a beautiful 
theory. But it is a theory and a dream. You and 
I today are living in a world of stern, cruel fact; 
in this world of fact we find the stern, cruel Ger- 
man. We find him here in possession of a land 
which he has stolen by stern, cruel, and murderous 
methods. He intends to keep that land, perpetu- 
ate those methods, and steal more land by identical 
methods. These are the methods he knows and 








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My Mental Processes 171 

employs. These are the only methods he respects 
or that make any Impression on him whatever. 
Then we must use stern methods against him In 
order to overcome and thwart him and restore the 
world to normal methods and life. Otherwise he 
will encroach and Impose his system upon the 
whole world and his method will be the permanent 
and the universal fate. 

If we see a wolf we meet him with force. If 
we deal with a kind man we meet him with kind- 
ness. If we meet a reasonable and Intelligent be- 
ing we answer him with reason and Intelligent 
argument, and If we find vicious, violent men, 
whether burglars, I. W. W.'s, or Germans, we 
meet them with police, with militia, and with force. 
In a world of fact this Is the only way we have of 
meeting such. We cannot confront a real and 
stern and urgent situation with a hazy theory, 
beautiful as It may be. In the meantime. If we do, 
we will have no country. We will have a German- 
ized world, and from our recent experience of 
Germanism we are convinced that this would be 
defiantly opposed to the will of God. 

Being an American citizen it was natural that 
the Ideals of our constitution should be rooted in 
my nature, and now I could not but bring them Into 



172 ''Back From Heir' 

contrast with the ideals of Germanism as demon- 
strated in this war. I believed these American 
principles to be Christian principles and the very 
backbone of them to be at cross purposes with the 
German goal. Our forefathers ordained and 
established that constitution in order to establish 
justice which the German had tried to break down 
while he established injustice. Our forefathers 
desired to promote the general welfare and insure 
the blessings of liberty to themselves and to poster- 
ity, while the German machine had existed and had 
begun this war for the purpose of enslaving people 
and exploiting them, thus depriving them of 
liberty. 

Now one or the other of these viewpoints was 
right. If America was right, Germany was 
wrong. Every clod and stone of Belgium de- 
clared the guilt of Germany. And I now declare 
that Germany is wrong! And therefore when 
she menaces the world in a military sense she must 
be put down by military means. When one rea- 
sons the matter out from the facts he cannot get 
away from this logic. Germany must be put 
down by military means ! 

Now, of course, I did not say this to the Ger- 
mans who were constantly on guard in the towns 



My Mental Processes 173 

and cities. I had no military forces at my com- 
mand. They had the guns. Nevertheless, I was 
now morally on the side of the Allied nations who 
were fighting to defend justice, right, and truth. I 
firmly believe that this eye-opening experience in 
Belgium under the very noses of the Germans and 
within their very power was the thing which 
brought me to a right perspective of life and to be 
able to clearly see things in their relative and 
proper values. 

My viewpoint changed, and I am sure that I can 
never be the same man again. Nobody can be the 
same who has been in this war. 



I 



CHAPTER XXXI 

A NIGHT IN LOUVAIN 

N PARIS I had met and talked with Arno 
Dosch Fleuro, an American reporter who had 
been with Richard Harding Davis at Louvain 
while it was burning. He had told me that when 
he was there the party was locked in a railroad car 
but that they could see the blazing buildings from 
the car window and hear and see the ungodly things 
which were taking place in the station square. The 
German soldiers were heavily intoxicated and were 
bringing lots of Belgians from all quarters of the 
city and executing them. 

One group of soldiers would come in from the 
street, driving perhaps a dozen or twenty Belgians 
ahead of them. They would bring them Into the 
station square, hand them over to another detach- 
ment which wouldtake them out behind the station, 
and a volley of bullets would be heard. Then 
another crowd would be brought in. They too 
would be taken out behind the depot and then an- 
other volley of bullets. 

'74 



A Night in Louvain 175 

One hilarious German jumped up onto a wagon 
and began haranguing and explaining why It was 
necessary for these people to be killed. 

"The whole Louvain affair, the wanton burn- 
ing and the murder, was nothing more than a 
drunken orgy." This was Arno's statement. The 
officers acquiesced In the affair, but later on when 
learning of the effect on neutral countries, the 
Kaiser said, " My heart bleeds for Louvain." 
Arno also said that he was the only one of the 
party in the car who could speak German and he 
had kept one soldier who was not so drunk as the 
rest, engaged in conversation at the car window, 
and this had protected them from the more intoxi- 
cated ones. 

I knew that Arno himself was a German and I 
asked him if he had seen Richard Harding Davis' 
book on the subject. He said, "No, Davis got 
back long before I did, but I have heard that he 
wrote a book about it. What did he say ? Did he 
say he was out in the town of Louvain ? If he did, 
he Is faking it up, because we were all locked in the 
car." 

I said I could not remember just what Davis 
had said. When I returned to my room In Paris, 
however, I looked up Davis' story again and found 



176 ''Back From Hell'' 

It had agreed exactly with Arno's account. He ad- 
mitted that they had not been out of the train, so I 
knew the narrative was true. 

Later on when I went to Louvain myself, I 
found that instead of exaggerating the case these 
men had very much understated it. I am not go- 
ing to overstate it, but I will not cover up the facts 
in my recital of the events. I was in Louvain 
twice, but the first time I only saw it hurriedly and 
superficially on my way to Liege. The second 
time I stayed a night and a day. Before the war 
began the city had a population of forty-five thou- 
sand. It had perhaps ten thousand then. It was 
not all destroyed and the statement that the Hotel 
de Ville was burned is incorrect. That beautiful 
city hall was saved by the Germans for their own 
use. Outside of this one building, however, every 
public building in Louvain is in ruins today. For 
several square miles in the heart of the city there is 
not a structure left. The cathedral is burned, al- 
though the walls still stand. The university 
library is gone, and in fact, aside from a fringe of 
houses, mostly tenements, around the edge of the 
city the most of the edifices are razed to the 
ground* And a man with whom I talked told me 
that fifteen of his fellow-townsmen there were 



A Night in Louvain 177 

taken by the German soldiers and thrown alive 
into a vat of quicklime in a factory and were left 
to die in the agonies of hell. He pointed out the 
place and told the story, crying as he did so. I 
believed him. 



CHAPTER XXXII 

RUIN AND DEATH 

IN THE course of my travels I happened to run 
across two Belgians, one of whom had a 
brother at Andenne. Upon learning that I was an 
American he became very friendly and confiden- 
tial and requested that I call upon his brother, 
giving me a card to him and assuring me that I 
would find a cordial reception. He said Andenne 
presented one of the saddest spectacles of the 
entire district and his brother had passed through 
the whole ordeal. At the time he told me this I 
was on my way from Liege to Namur. It was 
necessary to take a horse conveyance a part of the 
distance, between Flemalle and Huy, and I had 
this conversation with him in the hack. I was very 
glad to act upon his suggestion and instead of 
going Into Namur that evening I got off at An- 
denne. It was not difficult to find the man's 
brother and when I gave him the card and told 
him I was an American he certainly did treat me 
royally. That evening we talked far into the 

178 



Ruin and Death 179 

night. He showed me the destruction which the 
Germans had wrought in his own home and told 
me of the things they had stolen from him. Inci- 
dentally, the desk in his front room had been 
locked when the Germans broke into the house, 
but they had overturned it, smashed the drawers 
in from the bottom and thoroughly looted it. 

The next morning he took me for a walk 
through the town. As we went through the streets 
I noticed that every house in the place had been 
riddled with bullet holes. There were hundreds 
of holes right through the solid brick. The Ger- 
man machine gunners had simply gone through the 
place and raked every house so that if there was a 
single person in it, even asleep in his bed, those 
bullets would seek him out and send him to meet 
his God. Besides this, every house had the front 
doors and windows smashed in and now tempor- 
ary boardings were nailed up in the place of them. 
By and by in the progress of our walk we came 
to the edge of the town. 

There, along the side of the road, he showed 
me two tremendous graves side by side. I am 
sure they were not less than fifteen by twenty-five 
feet in dimension and piled up a couple of feet 
high with quicklime. 



l8o ''Back From Hell'' 

*' There are sixty of my fellow-townsmen buried 
In each one of those graves, '* said my escort. 
"Piled In there three deep. These men were 
shot down by the German soldiers when they 
entered the town for no other offense than that of 
being Belgian citizens." 

The thing seemed incredible. ''Are you certain 
about this?" I asked him. "Were you person- 
ally acquainted with these Innocent people who 
were murdered?" 

" I have lived here all my life," he replied, " and 
I am thirty-five years old. This was a place of 
four thousand people before the war and naturally 
I must have known almost everybody in the town." 

I then said to him, "Would you be willing to 
give me a list of the names of some of the people 
whom you know to have been innocently mur- 
dered? " He said he would be very glad to do so, 
and when we got back to his house he took a piece 
of paper and in a very few minutes' time wrote 
out a list of fifteen or twenty names, bracketing 
those which belonged to the same family. In 
some instances whole families of three to five peo- 
ple were annihilated by the Germans. 

That little piece of paper later on came very 
nearly getting me executed. But it served to show 



Ruin and Death i8i 

the deliberate policy of terrorism and frightful- 
ness which the Huns pursued. The man pointed 
out house after house, naming the owner and his 
occupation where these murders had been com- 
mitted. 

Later on I went to Aerschot. I had read in the 
Bryce report of Aerschot. When I entered the 
town on the electric tram car I saw the old familiar 
sight. It was the spectacle of gable ends of houses 
and stores sticking up toward heaven, the roofs 
having fallen in, all burned out inside and gaping 
at me from the smoke-blackened window holes 
where formerly the faces of the little children 
smiled. The whole town was in ruins. I entered 
a little shack where a woman was keeping store. 
We had a short conversation about the tragic ex- 
periences there and finally when I started to leave 
she became excited and frantic. I saw anger and 
tears coming into her eyes and she shot forth her 
hand and almost screamed, "Yes, and my own 
husband was shot down by my side also, as we 
were hiding in the cellar! We saw the German 
soldiers coming and we rushed below for refuge. 
They broke into our house, stole what they wanted, 
and then hunted us out in the cellar and shot my 
husband by my side. They then seized my own 



i82 ''Back From HeW' 

father, sixty-eight years of age, handcuffed him 
and dragged him out to the public square where 
with numbers of others of our townsmen he was 
shot down in cold blood and left lying unburied on 
the open square for two nights and two days. 
They wouldn't even let me bury him.'' 

And so it was that this kind of experience was 
repeated over and over again as I journeyed 
through desolated Belgium. The Germans put 
a deliberate policy of murder and of vandalism 
into awful execution. 

They laid low the country on every hand. The 
traveler sees a remarkable country and a wonder- 
ful civilization, but one which has been annihilated 
by the unappreciative Hun, a brother to the beast. 
I have seen marvelously beautiful cathedrals, 
adorned by the conceptions of the greatest mas- 
ters, built in honor of the one great Master who 
said, "All ye are brethren," shot to pieces by can- 
non, riddled by machine guns, burned up by flam- 
ing projectiles, thrown with terribly deliberate and 
accurate aim; cathedrals where the Christ had 
once been worshiped, and where the holy instincts 
of gentleness and love were inculcated. Now the 
figures of the Christ have sword thrusts in their 
sides and the hands and feet and face are pierced 



Ruin and Death 183 

with bullets from the machine guns. I have seen 
widows wearing crape, with babies in their arms 
who cried for food and have been told by them as 
their eyes flamed up, how their loved ones were 
shot down by their sides or taken out and bayo- 
neted in their sight; loved ones who had no part 
in the battle. 

When the people learned that the German Army 
had entered the town they frequently took refuge 
in the cellar, but the relentless soldiers sought 
them out. They broke in the doors and windows 
of the houses, stole the goods which they could 
carry, shot the men and then set fire to the home, 
and in not a few cases they shot and bayoneted the 
women and the babies. Priests also were made 
a special object of attack and the repeated narra- 
tives of particular cruelty toward them could not 
but carry conviction. A priest of Louvain who 
had escaped to Holland, later told me of forty 
of his fellow-priests being trapped in their head- 
quarters and every one shot down. 

At the little town of B the soldiers de- 
manded the keys to the church from the Belgian 
priest, in order that they could go in and burn it. 
When the priest refused they dragged him out of 
the house, over to the steps of the church, where 



184 ''Back From Hell" 

they cut off his ears and nose and left him there 
alone, where Death shortly found him. These 
facts are corroborated by witnesses, who take 
solemn oath to the truth of them; and to anyone 
who has been in Belgium during the present war, 
no tale of savagery would sound too wild for be- 
lief. The Huns have forgotten that they 
ever were human beings and have reverted to the 
wolf, and so they swarmed through Belgium and 
through northern France, this scourge of God, 
two million strong, blasting and withering every- 
thing they touched. 

As I traveled through the country I saw houses 
by the scores and hundreds upon which machine 
guns had been turned, while occupied by un- 
armed and innocent people, and the tragedy was 
fearful. These things I have seen with my own 
eyes and heard with my own ears. The high 
power of these modern shooting devices Is almost 
beyond conception. At L I saw two rapid- 
fire guns as I got off the train at the station, little 
gray, innocent looking things, a sort of rifle barrel 
mounted on a tripod, with a shield for the operator 
to stand behind, yet those guns could shoot seven 
hundred times a minute and when equipped with 
an electric motor they shoot four times that num- 



Ruin and Death 185 



ber, and they shoot to kill. Often with a range of 
two to three miles, they will deal sure death at a 
distance of a mile and a half. They are con- 
stantly trained on the city. Then their big guns 
astound the reason! 

The Springfield rifle has a range of five miles 
and the bullet on leaving the gun goes at a velocity 
of half a mile a second, or enough momentum to 
drive it through four and one-half feet of white 
pine. The siege guns which the Germans dragged 
up before the forts of Liege could drive a tremen- 
dous hole a foot and a half in diameter through 
twelve feet of solid concrete or four feet of solid 
steel. 

Yet, notwithstanding this, having all the hellish 
machinery of war that the mind is capable of de- 
vising, they want still more and are ready to pay 
handsome sums to clever inventors who will turn 
out new and unheard of instruments of torture 
and death. They build boats which submerge 
themselves beneath the ocean, and from this posi- 
tion of vantage hurl deadly missiles and send to 
the bottom giant ships carrying thousands of inno- 
cent human lives; they experiment until they find 
deadly gases which can be projected at the enemy, 
causing indescribable agony as they are breathed 



i86 ''Back From Heir' 

into the lungs, while the unhappy victim writhes 
in pain and shortly dies; that they may be more 
terrible than Attila, the Hun, in their policy of 
frightfulness, in order to subjugate the world, yet 
they have failed, in that they have neglected to 
take into view the eternal laws of God. They 
have forgotten that the race is not always to the 
swift nor the battle to the strong. Eternal laws 
cannot be frustrated, and Germany has failed! 
Again I say, Germany has failed ! History teaches 
him who is able to learn, that the Creator never 
meant one regime to rule the world. The Hun 
has failed. The Kaiser does not govern the Al- 
mighty nor run this universe. Man is dust and 
God alone is great. 



CHAPTER XXXIII 

IN THE PALACE OF THE KING 

WHILE I was in Brussels I stayed all the 
time at the same hotel, that of Madame 
Baily-Moremans, No. 26, Rue de VIeux Marche 
au Grains, down near the Bourse. Her maiden 
name had been Moremans but over there when a 
woman is married her name often comes last in- 
stead of the man's. Here it would be Madame 
Moremans-Baily. 

White sitting in the cafe one day, she intro- 
duced me to a wounded French soldier from Paris 
who was a prisoner of war. He had had one leg 
shot off but was about on his wooden leg and was 
staying at King Albert's palace, which had been 
converted into a Red Cross hospital. He was 
allowed by the Germans one free afternoon a 
week, to go down town for two hours, and I met 
him on one of these occasions. He told me many 
strange tales of frightfulness and gave me his 
card, asking me to come and visit him at the pal- 
ace. You cannot go there except you have the 

187 



i88 ''Back From Heir 

name of someone whom you wish to see, and then 
you may visit only on Sunday afternoon between 
two and three o'clock. German sentinels are con- 
stantly on guard outside of the palace. When I 
went to see him he presented me with a photo- 
graph of himself, and having told him confiden- 
tially that I was going back to France, he gave me 
his mother's address in Paris. I afterward found 
her and told her about her son. 

While I was talking with him I noticed that he 
was continually rubbing his arm, and I finally 
asked him what was the matter. He then told me 
of his own almost incredible experience. He said 
he was lying on the ground at the battle of the 
Marne, with his leg blown off by shrapnel; while 
helpless there in this condition a German sergeant 
came up and attempted to go through his pockets 
and rob him of some money which he had upon 
his person. He objected, naturally, and I suppose 
protested violently, as any human would. Where- 
upon the German drew his saber and gashed him 
across his right arm and then drew his pistol and 
shot him through his left shoulder. 

As the man finished telling me he looked about 
to see if any women were near, and not seeing 
any, pulled off his coat, rolled his sleeve way up, 



In the Palace of the King 189 

and showed me one of the most ugly gashes that I 
have ever seen. His arm was half cut off, and I 
shall never forget to my dying day the look of re- 
venge that was on his face. Nevertheless Jeaa 
was a good fellow and talked and laughed in spite 
of his mutilated condition. 

The daughter of the landlady of the hotel had 
accompanied me to the palace, and as we were 
leaving the place we were both looking with bulg- 
ing eyes about those great salons and taking in the 
marvelous chandeliers and gorgeous mosaics. 
Presently she said in a childish way, "I don't — 
think — I — should like to be a queen — it's all 
too large and grand for me. I would rather live in 
my own humble little home, down town." 

I have never forgotten that remark of the little 
Belgian girl. For as I reflected on it I thought of 
Belgium's queen, and where she now is — an out- 
cast, an exile, having no country and no home, 
while the little girl did have one, such as it was. 
It was a home nevertheless. 

The words of the poet came back to me. 
Princes and lords may flourish or may fade; 
A breath can make them, as a breath has made: 
But a bold peasantry, the country's pride, 
When once destroyed, can never be supplied 



CHAPTER XXXIV 

THE kaiser's envy 

TWO thousand years ago an Invading mon- 
arch, Julius Caesar, in his Commentaries 
said that the Belgians were the best fighting men 
that he had met; and the reason was that they 
inhabited the best country he had visited. 

Part of the ground is mountainous and in some 
places it rises sheer in the air for a thousand feet 
in solid rock and makes a formidable position for 
a stronghold or fortress. 

In other places it rolls away from the eye for 
miles in beautiful valleys and fertile plains. The 
view reminds one of a great ocean on a calm 
and peaceful day. A fertile country, made 
doubly so by the ingenuity and industry of Its in- 
habitants. The people of this remarkable land 
have constructed reservoirs and dug canals, erect- 
ing dykes and curious windmills, so that like Hol- 
land, her nearest neighbor, Belgium has Irrigated 
her fields and made her water supply regular, and 
therefore her crops are certain. 

190 



The Kaiser's Envy 191 



The traveler as he passes through on foot or on 
the meandering tramways is pleasantly surprised 
to see the abundance of the verdure and heaviness 
of the grain in the fields and is often amused to 
see the little carts go by loaded high with produce, 
drawn to market by the stout family dog, or, 
as is more often the case, two. These faithful 
friends display amazing strength and willingness 
and when hitched up will pull almost like a horse. 
Dairying is an important product in Belgium, and 
great cans of milk are loaded on these carts and 
the thirsty one can buy a pint for a penny or two 
and drink it as he stands upon the street by the 
cart, while the family dog is lying down under it. 

The spectacle of the peasant folk thus hauling 
about their wares is very picturesque. A man or 
woman following a dog-cart and often times lend- 
ing a hand to help push the load, is a very ordi- 
nary scene in the streets of that little country of 
one hundred miles square, but its prosperity and 
beauty present a peculiar fascination to anyone 
who has seen it. The German Emperor had seen 
It, and that was why he had attacked it. 

Covetousness, that strange quality, appears to 
be a part of the make-up of the human mind. The 
devil apparently injected this fatal poison into the 



192 ''Back From Heir 

veins of man. Most people hold it partially under 
control, but some give free reign to it and allow it 
to become the ruling power in their lives. The 
Kaiser, reared in an artificial atmosphere, has not 
been able to resist this temptation, and so in his 
life it has been given unbounded sway; and, what 
is worse, through many patient years he has inocu- 
lated other men with the virus and under its influ- 
ence built up a great machine for military con- 
quest. 

He has always dreamed of world empire. He 
once said, *'I have been raised upon the lives of 
Alexander, Theodoric, Caesar, Frederick the 
Great, and Napoleon. These men all dreamed 
of world empire. They failed. I have dreamed 
of world empire, and by the might of the mailed 
fist I shall not fail." He and the clique of men 
whom he has gathered about him possess a 
marvelous amount of persistence and thorough- 
ness, feeling also a superiority over other peoples, 
and they have depended upon might to bring them 
victory. 

Some delusion inherited from his ancestors and 
cultivated by his intimate friends caused the 
Kaiser, even when a very young man, to believe 
that he had a God-given right to possess anything 



The Raise/ s Envy 193 

that he could acquire, either by fair mfeans or foul, 
and he has never taken any pains to control or 
diminish the conviction. As a matter of fact, on 
the contrary, he studiously cultivated and nursed 
It until it came to be the absorbing ambition of his 
life. When he came to the throne thirty years 
ago he announced himself as "Earth's supreme 
war lord." And because his empire continued to 
grow and develop rapidly, he seemed to take it 
that the forces of the universe were backing him 
up and that the Creator was with him and had 
given him special dispensation to manage the 
universe. 

In the beginning, doubtless, his conceptions had 
been more vague and abstract, but as time went 
on they became definite and concrete. He had 
seen the happy and prosperous lands of Belgium 
and France to the west, and he had wanted them. 
This settled the matter. It might shock the world 
and cost a terrific price, but that was incidental. 
Let others "pay the piper," he would reap the 
gain. His philosophy of "Might makes Right" 
cleverly disseminated through the empire, has 
caused many of his people to believe In It. 

When one examines for a moment this concep- 
tion which these German people have been taught, 



194 ''Back From Heir\ 

it makes their attitude more understandable, al- 
though no more excusable. For a generation or 
more they have been taught the "blood and iron 
philosophy." The crime is to be laid at the door 
of the leaders and the thinkers, and the great men 
of the nation. These have been false teachers, 
and '' when the blind lead the blind, both fall into 
the ditch.'* They have inculcated a system of 
thinking, into the minds of large numbers of peo- 
ple, which leads them to believe that they are 
especially designed to dominate the world. Any 
means which they may employ to attain, estab- 
lish, and maintain their supremacy are justifiable. 
Even the professors in the schools and the theo- 
logians, as well, will unblushingly defend this posi- 
tion and justify German crime. As a result of this 
doctrine — see Belgium and northern France! 
Belgium, a murdered country, a ravished people, 
justice outraged, homes violated, churches dese- 
crated, altars battered down, black hell turned 
loose, and all *' justified" by the German conten- 
tion. Ninety-three of the leading professors in 
the university, men to whom the world looked for 
light, but unfortunately men whose salaries might 
be cut off by the Kaiser at an hour's notice, de- 
fended this outrage, saying that Belgium was not 



The Kaise/s Envy 195 

wronged. It is safe to assume that the Kaiser re- 
quested the statement. 

Barbarian savages centuries ago defended the 
same Identical argument that might Is the right of 
the stronger. The nation's leaders, such as Bis- 
marck and BernhardI, Treltschke, Nietzsche, and 
the Kaiser himself have advocated this doctrine. 
Emperor William once told his troops to make 
themselves as terrible as Attlla, the Hun. They 
have not forgotten this, for In Belgium they exe- 
cuted his command in a grimly literal sense. 



CHAPTER XXXy 

CAUGHT BY THE HUNS AND TRIED AS A SPY 

WHEN I returned to Brussels I applied 
at the German office for a pass to Hol- 
land. I was told to come back '' Next Tuesday/' 
which was five days hence ! Meanwhile the Ger- 
mans kept my American passport. I was angry 
again. But I decided it was no use to worry Mr. 
Whitlock, as he could have no influence with these 
German officials anyway. His heart was willing 
but his power was weak with them. He had 
frankly said so. But I was not going to lose those 
intervening days, so I went without my passport to 
Mons again and also to Waterloo. At the latter 
place I climbed that immense artificial mountain 
two hundred and twenty-six steps up the side of it, 
cone-shaped as it Is, and stood beneath that great 
British lion of bronze, a monument against the 
mania for world empire which Napoleon had a 
hundred years ago. There were three German 
soldiers up there so I did not tarry long. I was 
afraid they would ask me to show my papers. I 

196 



Caught and Tried as a Spy 197 

was not supposed to move without them and was 
expected to stay in Brussels. However, I had not 
attempted to go on the trains, as German officers 
guard every depot and make anyone approaching 
the station show their papers. Lacking mine I 
would have been thrown into jail. So I had taken 
the tram, which is still run by the Belgian peo- 
■ple, and fortunately I was not challenged. Soon 
after I left Waterloo I read that the Germans 
had torn down that great British lion, that his- 
toric monument a century old, and made it into 
bullets to shoot back at the British who put it 
there. It was a strange irony. 

Back in Brussels I again applied for my pass- 
ports at the end of the five days. Instead of get- 
ting them I got arrested ! 

During the searching of my person which fol- 
lowed, and which was conducted with character- 
istic German thoroughness by Viellaur and his 
assistant, a bullet-headed fellow whose name I do 
not know, a peculiar incident occurred. I had a 
certain amount of material such as personal cards, 
souvenirs, etc., as any man is apt to have with 
him, although I had determined not to have 
anything about me which might in any way offend 
the Germans or give the slightest ground for sus- 



198 ''Back From Hell'' 

picion that I was collecting Information, possibly 
for the enemy. I did unconsciously accumulate a 
few Innocent cards which people handed to me in 
this place and In that. I do not care who he is, 
any man who will turn his pockets Inside out will 
find little things like that which perhaps he did 
not know he had or had forgotten all about. 

Also I had a book of cigarette papers which I 
had brought all the way from France. Being a 
preacher, of course I had no use for them! But 
an enthusiastic pollu had wanted me to have some 
souvenir to remember him by and not having any- 
thing else had presented me with this. Now the 
papers were not the kind which are stuck Individu- 
ally with mucilage by one edge Into the cover and 
which I believe are called Rlz-la-Croix, but the 
brand called Zig-Zag, which are creased in the mid- 
dle and folded Into each other, so that when you 
pull out one. It pulls the edge of the next one into 
view, and so on. Now, when It is open, if you press 
the two ends of the cover of this little book to- 
gether a small aperture Is disclosed in the back of 
the book, a kind of pocket, a thing which I suppose 
not one man out of a thousand who uses them con- 
stantly ever discovered. There Is no reason why he 
should. But I had discovered this aperture and I 



Caught and Tried as a Spy 199 

suppose for convenience sake and possibly also for 
secrecy had stuck the check for my uniform in that 
aperture behind the cigarette papers when I re- 
ceived it at the Great Northern Railway station in 
London. The check was a good sized piece of 
paper on which the parcel man had written a de- 
scription of my package, " i Khaki Uniform," and 
which I had folded up and stuck in there and 
promptly forgotten. When Viellaur, taking me 
by surprise, suddenly began searching me, among 
other things he took this book of cigarette papers 
out of my pocket. He also found that list of mur- 
dered men from Andenne. From top to toe he 
had rifled me, and all my possessions were lying 
on his desk. Then, for some reason, he went 
around to the other side of the desk, and his assis- 
tant, with the bullet-head, began carefully examin- 
ing all the articles. Certain things were plainly 
innocent and uninteresting. These he laid In one 
pile. For Instance, there was a key, a plain picture 
post card, a paper napkin from Liege, etc. Cer- 
tain other things looked interesting to him and he 
laid these on another pile. On the interesting pile 
he laid all cards which besides bearing the printed 
names of the original owners had other names and 
addresses written on them in handwriting, in Ink, 



200 ''Back From Hell" 

or pencil. On the uninteresting pile he put all the 
other things. 

Imagine my astonishment when Mr. Bullet-head 
began pulling out one cigarette paper after an- 
other from that book and finally squeezed the cov- 
ers and saw the paper check for my uniform back 
in the little pocket-like aperture ! He took it out 
deliberately, unfolded it and looked it over, and 
evidently not being able to make any sense out of 
it calmly laid It on the uninteresting pile I I heaved 
a sigh of relief for my heart had been in my 
mouth. If he had been anything but a German 
he would have Immediately drawn the conclusion, 
fatal for me, that when I had a check for my uni- 
form and baggage in London, I must have used 
them In the Allies' service, and I certainly Intended 
to go back and get them. But going back to the 
enemy was just what they did not want. It was 
lucky that VIellaur, who knew English perfectly, 
did not see that check. You may be sure that the 
first chance I got I put the uninteresting pile back In 
my pocket so that he would not see It and It would 
not damn me. But the thrilling part was to come. 
Not feeling satisfied with the search, Mr. Bullet- 
head decided to go through me once again and 
made no bones or hesitation about promptly put- 



Caught and Tried as a Spy 201 

ting his decision into execution. Alas I He drew 
from the lining of my coat some maps of Belgium, 
where it looked as though I had deliberately put 
them in an attempt to hide them. *' Cursed be the 
Fates anyway," I exclaimed to myself. My coat 
lining was torn just at the top of my inside pocket 
and when I had innocently put the maps in my 
pocket I had unwittingly put them inside the lining 
instead. It was fearfully damaging evidence I 
Though done unconsciously it did look mighty sus- 
picious and when he began examining the map and 
saw the towns which I had marked and particularly 
the ones which I had considered important places, 
he concluded I was a spy. 

These towns, as a matter of fact, which had the 
circles of stars around them had been so marked 
by the manufacturer to indicate that they were 
fortified towns, but I did not know it. The evi- 
dence pointed to the conclusion that I had planned 
my visits to the fortifications to gather military 
information and with no good intent towards 
Germany. They were now sure I was a spy and, 
by George ! before they were through with me I 
just about began to wonder if I wasn't one my- 
self. I must confess at this distance of security 
and of time it did look most maghtily suspicious. 



202 ''Back From Heir' 

It certainly did, and I was in for the *' third 
degree.'' 

After the German officers had searched me, and 
examined the papers, they threw me into a big 
gray military automobile, handcuffing me to the 
machine, and hurried me down to my hotel. They 
searched my room and grip, and then brought me 
back and threw me into a guard room. Five sol- 
diers with saw-edged bayonets were set to watch 
me. I did whatever they told me without arguing. 
Upon being searched the several cards with names 
and addresses which Belgians from here and there 
had given me in the hope that I might find and 
cheer some dear one with news of their safety, 
were found upon my person. I was, therefore, 
charged with being a spy and with having gone to 
all these towns for the purpose of getting military 
Information for the enemy. The fact that they 
themselves had given me the pass made no differ- 
ence. Having so many spies In every country them- 
selves made the Germans suspicious of everyone 
else. I was left In that guard room and told that 
I would have to stay until after lunch. The man 
must have eaten a heavy meal Instead of a lunch, 
for he did not come back for me until ^ve o'clock 
In the afternoon. I was given no lunch. Then the 



Caught and Tried as a Spy 203 

officer came for me, and I was questioned until 
way into the night. 

Next day I was put through the ** third degree." 
I will not attempt to describe the grilling which I 
got, but take my word it was a fearful ordeal. 



CHAPTER XXXVI 

THREATENED WITH CRUCIFIXION 

WHEN it was apparent to the Germans that 
they were able to get no satisfaction from 
me and could not intimidate me into admitting that 
I was paid by the British Government, they tried 
more effective measures. 

I am frank to admit that during the whole of 
the proceeding I was frightened. I will go even 
further than that and confess I was scared nearly 
to death. 

Physically I was intimidated and terrorized and 
at times I could realize and even see that my knees 
were shaking, and trembling from fright. Yet 
strange as it may sound, mentally I was calm and 
cool and kept my wits about me perfectly. And, 
my friends, you can say what you please about the 
delusions that men have of God's presence, and 
about the "Onlooking Father" being merely a 
dream-fancy of the imagination, but you can't talk 
to me with any effect and replace your fatalism for 
my faith! I'm not theorizing now, for I know! 

204 



Threatened with Crucifixion 205 

I know that an unseen Friend held my life in those 
awful moments and overruled the designs of those 
inhuman officials. I admit that I was scared — 
scared stiff — and yet, at the same time, never did 
I become confused mentally; not once did I make 
a single conflicting statement, nor in any way give 
those inquisitors any ground whatever for confirm- 
ing their suspicions. If I had made a single break, 
or even become excited, or protested innocence, or 
appealed to the American diplomats, or anything 
of the kind, the effect would have been very bad 
for me. I simply let those hell-hounds go to it and 
do their worst, and as God is in heaven I believe 
to this day that my cool bearing and mental com- 
posure had a tremendous influence with them. To 
speak United States, " it got their goat." If you 
quail before a German, or show fear, he's got you. 

And when as a last resort they threatened me 
with the most awful punishment that is conceiv- 
able, I still stood firm. They said I would tell 
what I knew or they would know the reason why. 

A big, burly brute then took me out into a big 
court-yard and showed me a fence which had a 
cross painted on it. As we stepped out the back 
door, four soldiers were lined up out there with 
their rifles and gleaming bayonets. Another man 



2o6 ''Back From Hell'' 

had a hatchet In his hand and a pan of short 
spikes. 

The detective who brought me out then told me 
in a confidential tone that If I did not make a clean 
sweep of the whole affair and tell them my mission 
and my activities In that country they were going 
to crucify me at once. I believe I flushed red, 
but not from fright. Anger such as I never want 
to return to my poor soul seized hold of me as I 
shouted Into his teeth, "You can crucify me, sir, 
but you can only make yourself a criminal, not 
me; God help you!" 

There was a moment's silence. Then, " Bring 
him In," the man said quietly to the soldiers, and 
I was taken Into the room where I had been be- 
fore. I now felt a little more confidence, for I felt 
that I had cowed them down and thereafter they 
did not seem to be quite so cold and arrogant. But 
I was put Into the hands of a different man. They 
have such a wonderful system of dodging respon- 
sibility and of passing you over to other people. 
I do not believe that cowardly cur dared to deal 
with me any longer and I never saw him again. I 
was now given over to Laubenthal, a very tall, 
business-like fellow, who seemed to have great au- 
thority. He asked me many more questions, writ- 



Threatened with Crucifixion 207 

ing down the answers and seeming to put in his 
own ideas, and then he told me to sign the paper, 
which was several pages long. He said it was 
simply my own story, and like a fool, I wrote my 
name to it, before I really knew what it was I was 
signing. 

Later, when I thought what it might be, I 
trembled. It might have been my death warrant! 

Over an hour passed, not much was said for a 
time. I was in the same room where Edith Ca- 
vell was sentenced and out of which she was taken 
through the back door, lined up against a blank 
wall and shot. Presently, at an ominous moment, 
Laubenthal stepped over to the wall and took 
down a white cloth. Holding it dangling conspicu- 
ously by the corner he started over toward my 
chair. My spine went ice. I thought he was going 
to tie it about my eyes and I was going to be taken 
out the back door and stood up against the blank 
wall. All my former sins came back. I faced eter- 
nity. It was an awful moment, but quickly passing 
from the sublime to the ridiculous, do you know I 
never realized before what a difference there Is in 
the way a man can carry a rag ! If he had taken it 
by the middle, as any decent, sane man would do, I 
might have thought he was going to do what I be- 



2o8 ''Back From Heir' 

lieve he eventually did, wash his hands and use it 
as a towel. Holding it by that corner, however, 
looked too suspicious for me. It was an innocent 
rag, but he carried it in a funny way, and without 
joking, I will say that I have had a wholesome re- 
spect for a rag ever since. I now believe he was 
purposely trying to scare me. Well, if he was, he 
certainly succeeded. Von Bissing then came in 
and gave me a ten minute curtain lecture which was 
anything but pleasant. After a time, however, 
evidently deciding that there was no case against 
me, Laubenthal went to the telephone and had a 
conversation in German. I heard him mention my 
name, but I did not know whether it meant release 
or execution, and there is quite a difference. Soon 
he called over to me and asked me if I was ready 
to leave that day. Like a flash I said, "Yes, sir; 
yes, sir." I had been ready for several days. He 
gave me a permit, saying, " Get out on the seven 
o'clock train tonight and don't come back." Well, 
I've been in the habit of missing trains all my life, 
but I was at that depot at six o'clock. I wouldn't 
have missed that train for all the iron crosses in 
the Kaiser's foundry. I got out. That is, I 
started for Holland. 

However, I was pulled off the train by a husky 



Threatened with Crucifixion 209 

German soldier at the first stop this side of the 
Holland border, about two miles from the line, 
and told that my papers were not in order and I 
would be compelled to go back again to Brussels 
and get them changed. 

Now, Laubenthal had told me not to come 
back. I knew he meant it, too. And I didn't in- 
tend to go back — not that soon. 



CHAPTER XXXVII 

MY ESCAPE AND RETURN TO GOOD OLD FRANCE 

CONSEQUENTLY while I started back 
toward Brussels, that night under cover of 
(darkness I soon wheeled around and made for the 
Holland border — alone — on foot. Part of the 
way I crept on all fours. Sometimes I was com- 
pelled because of the barbed-wire entanglement, 
to crawl on my stomach. I went through mud and 
water and clambered over stones. Suddenly I 
heard two German sentries apparently arguing. 
Finally one let loose with an automatic and winged 
me In the leg. Although I twitched I never whimp- 
ered and kept crawling on. At last the two miles 
were traversed and I found myself In Holland. 
The first Dutchman I saw (and please don't mis- 
take a Dutchman for a German) I will always re- 
member. He was coming toward me with a lan- 
tern, and when he heard me he called out to know 
who It. was. I answered "An American." He 
then came smiling toward me and greeted me with 
a hearty handshake, but I was laughing through 

2IO 



Return to Good Old France 21 ii 

tears. I slapped him on the shoulder and ex- 
claimed, " Say, old top, you're the first human be- 
ing I've seen for many weeks. I have been in the 
hands of those cursed German brutes and they 
made life fearful for me." Of course he didn't 
know what '' old top " meant but I didn't care any- 
way. He bandaged up my slight wound and sent 
me on my way. I was now mad at the Huns, and 
good and mad, but I was on my way to France. I 
was In the hands of sympathetic friends Instead of 
hardened foes and I was happy in spite of my 
anger. I had seen Belgium and had obtained the 
evidence. Whereas before I had jerked off my 
frock coat and then later had shed my vest and 
gritted my teeth, I now began rolling up my sleeves 
for the Allies. Righteous indignation took the 
upper hand of pacifism. When I went back to 
The Hague and told Dr. Van Dyke my story, he 
was astonished. I did not tell it all, but related 
enough to considerably startle him. 

I had slipped by the consuls, had seen Belgium, 
had finally escaped, and was now to be passed on 
to England. I had no further difficulties, and in 
two days was off for Tilbury Docks. When I got 
there I was taken aside and searched, but there 
was none of that terrorism about it which the 



212 ''Back From Hell'' 

Germans had used. They had searched mc thor- 
oughly thirteen times. 

The English officers asked me several leading 
questions, whether I had seen any movement of 
troops and what was the food condition, etc. As 
I did not have any particular military informa- 
tion, I was soon dismissed and got my pass to 
France. 

I now went down to the railway station and 
got my uniform where I had checked it. When I 
crossed the channel and went into France I had 
a funny experience. I went up to the railroad ticket 
office and asked for a special rate ticket to Paris 
(one-fourth fare) . The woman asked, '' Have you 
papers to show that you are military?" I said, 
" No, Madame, I have none with me." And I was 
having an awful time with my French. Just then 
young Du Boucher stepped up to the window. He 
was an old friend from Paris, and he looked good 
to me. He had just come from Etaples and spoke 
perfect French and perfect English. Besides, 
he was a good fellow. His father was one of 
the main surgeons and founder of our hospital 
in Neuilly. But with all that, we could not per- 
suade the woman to give me a military ticket. She 
said to come back later and see the officer. Then 



Return to Good Old France 213 

Du Boucher said he would stay with me and see 
me through. When we went back we found a 
grouchy officer. We asked him for a mihtary 
pass. When he asked for our papers I gave him 
my *' leave of absence." He looked at it and said, 
*' My dear sir, you are a deserter. This paper 
gives you ten days' leave and you have been gone 
much longer. You must come back and see the 
colonel at eight o'clock." 

I told him my train would go to Paris at seven- 
thirty. He didn't hear me at all. He said, '' This 
IS very serious, and you must see the colonel." I 
then told him I wasn't really military, don't you 
know, as the ambulance service was in reality neu- 
tral, so I was not a deserter. "Oh, I see," said 
he. *^ You're not really military, and why then 
are you attempting to buy a military ticket? This 
is still more serious. You must see the colonel." 

I was scared green. 

However, when we came back to see the 
colonel we found a very affable human man, who 
said he couldn't do anything for us about a special 
ticket if we had no papers to show that we were 
entitled to it, but that we could go to the window 
and make a try at getting it. Again we did so. A 
different agent was at the window, and we went 



214 ''Back From Hell'' 

up and asked him for such a ticket. He handed 
it out without a question. 

For the next two minutes I can tell you we did 
some laughing. We were compelled to stay over 
night, but at any rate I did not have to face court- 
martial as a deserter, and in the morning I was In 
Paris. There Is nothing like having a fluent 
speaker of French with you In France, especially 
when you are In trouble. I was now back again In 
the good old country. Dear old France, how 
good it looked! My heart had been changed and 
I now immediately went Into action again, under 
the colors of France. The fighting had been very 
heavy and some terrible scenes were shortly to be 
witnessed. Hundreds of men were now literally 
ground to pieces on the Western front. 



CHAPTER XXXVIII 

NO man's land 

IN THE French Army, now, I had a different 
standing than at first. Our unit in its entirety 
was taken over and we became brancardiers, or 
stretcher bearers, in the Second Army of France. 
Accordingly we were quartered in the army bar- 
racks. For some time after I got back from Bel- 
gium there were days of blood and thunder as a 
fearful offensive had been launched by the Germans. 
An entire change of heart had now come over 
me. I who had been a kind of peaceful milk and 
water ecclesiastical pacifist to now stand beside 
the boys with the guns and even sleep with the 
poilus whose main object is to kill Germans, and 
approve of it, was unusual to say the least, and I 
thought it would shock some of the deacons back 
in my tranquil church at home. I was ready to 
even risk a guess that some of my befrocked cleri- 
cal friends would be surprised. But I figured that 
when universal freedom was at stake, as I now 
clearly saw it was, I could not afford to be a neu- 

2IS 



2i6 "Back From Heir' 

tral even though I was a Presbyterian preacher. I 
could not resist my conscience. 

As I look at it now, I wish they would put a num- 
ber of these "conscientious objectors" into the 
same kind of service. That experience was the 
best thing that ever happened to me. I became 
enthusiastic for the Allies and the war, and dead 
against the Kaiser and his gang. 

Soon after this I was dispatched to a certain 

place near L for duty. I found a man who 

had just been out on a wire-cutting expedition. As 
I lifted him on to the stretcher he said, " Well, I 
did it anyhow." Then with some effort he related 
the following experience to me: 

" When the order was given that we would go 
*over the top' at three o'clock in the morning, 
and take the Germans' first line trench, our boys 
were ready. There was no *try to take it' nor 
* attack it,' but * we will go over the top and take 
It.' There was a note of finality in the wording of 
the order, which we well understood. Our lieuten- 
ant then came down to our fire bay and asked who 
would volunteer to go out at midnight and cut the 
lanes. He was looking right at me, and said ' Vin- 
cent, how about It?' I timidly replied, ^I'll go, 
sir.' There was no way out. I am frank to con- 



No Man's Land 217 

fess that after I got to thinking about it, my knees 
began to shake. The more I thought, the worse 
they got. I had given my word, though, and I 
wouldn't be a quitter. I don't think there is any 
yellow streak In me, but there is a lot of human 
nature. I love life. I got to thinking of my past 
and the words of Shakespeare ran In my mind, 
* Conscience doth make cowards of us all.' I 
wasn't scared, I was paralyzed. 

*' I realized what it meant that I had promised 
to do. It meant that I was to climb up a scaling 
ladder over our parapet, go out Into the full ex- 
posure of the enemy, crawl on my stomach slowly 
— slowly again — an Inch at a time — so slowly 
that If a German saw me, he would not know I 
was moving at all, and would suppose me dead. 
I must cover the distance between our parapet 
and our entanglement, which was perhaps a dozen 
yards, with a tripping wire in between, then noise- 
lessly cut a lane through twenty feet of knotted 
and gnarled barbed wire, fastening It back so that 
It could not curl up and entangle our men as they 
rushed through. Then I must creep and crawl on 
my stomach, hugging the ground until I got back 
and slid Into our trench. If I were seen. It was 
all day with me. I'd go to Blighty — for good. 



2i8 ''Back From Hell'' 

"Well, twelve o'clock came around — all too 
soon. I went. When I had cut my first wire, a 
German star shell fell, lighting up the barbed- 
wire entanglement for rods around. Luckily for 
me it fell short of the parallel in which I was, to 
the trenches. If it had fallen back of me, It 
would have thrown my body Into bold relief." 

For the readers' benefit be it said that a star 
shell is something like a sky rocket or a roman 
candle. It is sent up Into the air and falls to the 
ground, lighting up everything around it. The 
purpose of It is to betray any action of the enemy 
In No Man's Land. Obviously, If It falls short, 
It blinds the sender to what is going on beyond It, 
just as a light in the window of a house will not 
throw the objects In the room Into view from the 
outside, especially if the spectator Is some distance 
away. But objects can be plainly seen In the 
room by a person across the street, If the light 
Is on the far side of the room. This Is par- 
ticularly true if the object should move. So with 
the star shell. But It must frighten one at best 
to be lying on his stomach and have the whole 
world illuminated about him even if he Is behind 
the light. 

In slower and lower tones the pollu continued: 



No Man's Land 219 

" I had just cut my last wire and folded It back 
on the post — I don't think thirty seconds had 
passed — when a star shell came down between 
me and my own trench and glimmered away as 
if it never would go out. It may have burned for 
thirty seconds, but that thirty seconds seemed like 
thirty years to me. 

" I was less than forty yards from the German 
trenches, and I believe within thirty yards of their 
barbed wire. As that star shell came down, I had 
my hand upon a post about a foot from the 
ground. And as it was, I was really grasping the 
barbed wire, wrapped around the post, and thus 
assisting myself to crawl back to our trenches. 
Although the wire was cutting my fingers fiercely, 
I dared not let loose of that post, for fear the Ger- 
mans would detect the motion and let me have it 
hot and heavy. Just before the star shell burned 
out, I distinctly heard some German voices. One 
man said, ' There, look there ! ' Then the star 
shell went out. Expecting another immediately, 
I dared not move or withdraw my hand. It came. 
Again I could hear those Germans talking, this 
time arguing about me, instead of shooting me, 
and when that star shell went out, I pulled my- 
self up by the aid of that post and ran as I never 



220 ''Back From Hell'' 

ran In my life before. I believe I broke the 
world's record. 

"And then, at last, they began to shoot, and just 
as I fell into our trenches, one of them caught me 
here." His breathing was labored as he placed 
his hand on his side. 

"But somehow, when a fellow is out there — 
alone — facing death In the solitude. It seems so 
much worse than It Is two hours later, when the 
boys go * over the top,' dozens of them together, 
with bayonets gleaming and with yelling and 
shooting and barrage fire. It doesn't seem nearly 
so bad In a crowd. I don't mean that the men like 
it. No mdn ever likes to go ' over the top,' but 
there is a hypnotism when the crowd goes with you. 
It Is what the professors call mob psychology. It's 
the thing that will make a man jump Into a scrim- 
mage on the football field eagerly, knowing that he 
will get hurt, without thinking anything about It. 

But I went alone. I'm all right but I feel " 

Here his breath came hard. 

" The charge was set for three o'clock. A fear- 
ful bombardment was opened up. The barrage 
fire was terrific. Word was finally passed along 
from mouth to mouth, *ten minutes till we go 
over the top I ' All the while the bombardment 



No Man's Land 221 

had been going on more fiercely and the firing 
was let loose, the like of which was never seen 
before. 

"At last it was five minutes of three. The 
* death ladders ' were put in place, so the men 
could scale the parapet, and at exactly three oVlock 
the whistles blew a mighty blast. Up the boys 
went like monkeys over a garden wall. The cur- 
tain fire was thrust forward. Through the lanes 
they went. Across No Man's Land they rushed, 
and men were falling all about. At this moment 
some of the Germans made a kind of counter- 
charge, and a few got very near our trenches. One 
big German was almost falling into our trench on 
top of me, when I heard him yell at me. I could 
not tell what he said, but as his mouth opened in 
yelling, amazement and fear gripped me, for, like 
the shiny tongue of a snake, there stuck out of his 
mouth a long, glistening object. I thought he was 
making faces at me. But only a second elapsed, 
until his yell merged into a fiendish shriek and he 
pitched toward me. One of our men had jammed 
his bayonet through the big Boche from behind, 
and It had come out of his mouth. It was the 
last of him. I know our boys got there. But 
It sure is hell. But — It — Is glorlousi" I then 



222 ''Back From Hell'' 

realized that he was weakening and when I 
asked him if he was badly hurt he answered, " No 
— not bad — I reckon — only — *goln' West.'" 
As the poor fellow spoke these last words his 
breath was coming hard. Life was slowly ebbing 
out and as I stood with his hand clasped In mine he 
passed over the Great Divide. In solemn reflec- 
tion I stood beside him for a moment. Yes, It was 
glorious. In a way, yet for my part It sickened me. 
I had had enough. I was fed up with the war and 
I longed for rest. 



CHAPTER XXXIX 

JEAN AND "fRENCHIE" 

THAT rest was to come ere long — but not 
immediately. I had seen the tragedy and 
horror of modern warfare but I was still to un- 
dergo another heart-tearing ordeal. The boys 
of a certain company were as handsome a lot as 
ever donned a uniform. But some of the best of 
them were marked men. Two of these fellows 
whom I had come to consider as pals, got theirs 
a few days later. The name of one was Jean, and 
I couldn't pronounce the other, so I used to call 
him " Frenchie." They were both fine, strapping 
lads, larger than the average Frenchman and had 
the pep of young Americans. Jean was twenty- 
one and *' Frenchie " I suppose about twenty-five. 
We used to have great times together trying to 
understand each other and laughing over my mis- 
takes in speaking French. Some of them were 
worth laughing at, too. 

On occasions I would sit and swap yarns with 
them or would yield to their requests to tell them 

223 



224 ''Back From Hell'' 

all about the United States. We struck up an in- 
timacy which was unusual, and it got so that we 
sought each other's company whenever possible. 
The boys used to ask me all kinds of questions 
about New York and wanted to know how far out 
Pike's Peak was from the metropolis. I had to 
laugh at their conception of American geography 
as much as they did at my conception of their lan- 
guage. Many a pleasant hour we enjoyed to- 
gether. 

But alas 1 One Sunday afternoon a gas alarm 
was suddenly sounded. All the men along the 
trench began excitedly fumbling for their gas masks 
and shouting to one another. That was the very 
worst thing that they could do. Remaining cool 
and keeping your mouth shut is the only possible 
method of combating this awful weapon. You 
must lose no time in shaking off your metal trench 
helmet and getting the gas mask on and buttoned 
tightly around your neck, but the way to save 
time is to go about It cooly. Now "Frenchle" 
had become excited and couldn't find his mask. 
It wasn't In his bag provided for the purpose. He 
had lost It. In his excitement. Instead of wetting 
his handkerchief and tying It over his nose as a 
temporary substitute, he began yelling at the other 



Jean and ^' Frenchie'* 225 

boys, asking them if they had seen it or if they 
had an extra one. In doing this he had taken in 
several breaths of the deadly fumes and was 
quickly overcome. He was carried back into the 
receiving station and there he lay in agony. When 
I got there two men were bending over him as he 
lay upon the stretcher and with a fan and oxygen 
tube, they were trying to assist him in getting 
air into his lungs. I went over and spoke to him, 
but his eyes were closed and he could not answer. 
For ten or fifteen minutes we worked with him, 
but it seemed like eternity. As his eyelids twitched, 
his throat contracted, and his nostrils distended in 
the awful effort to get air; I thought I should faint 
as I was forced to look upon his indescribable suf- 
fering. When once or twice I asked him some- 
thing the agonizing efforts which he made to speak 
to me were terrible to behold. I would rather die 
myself than ever have to look on such a sight 
again. Death isn't hard to see and the sight of it 
becomes commonplace on the battle line. But the 
spectacle of a fellow-human going through the 
slow agonies of the damned, in his vain attempts 
to get air, is one which no mortal ought ever to be 
called upon to undergo. 

Of course I cannot know how much actual pain 



226 ''Back From Hell'' 

he felt, as it is possible that the gas deadened his 
nerves and yet caused him to twitch in this awful 
manner; but if poor "Frenchie" suffered any 
worse than I did in those few minutes, he is bet- 
ter off dead than living. Finally he turned a blu- 
ish green color and at last gave one great gulp 
and died. It was with heavy hearts that we car- 
ried him out and then I went back to the depot. 
The Boches had made a terrific charge on about 
a quarter of a mile front, but were repulsed with 
very heavy losses. Naturally our brave boys 
were exulting over the fact that they had stood 
their ground and made the Germans quickly re- 
treat, leaving numbers of their men upon the field. 
I was not very jubilant, however, because the 
thought of poor " Frenchie " was still in my 
mind. Then another shock came to me. I had 
gone back to the depot only to find my other 
comrade, Jean, lying on a piece of canvas on the 
floor with a bandage around his head. His face 
was turned away from me and a man was ad- 
ministering temporary treatment. I asked him 
what was the matter, and upon hearing my voice 
Jean answered for himself. "Well, I guess I got 
mine that time, but you can bet I gave a good ac- 
count of mvself first. It is all for La Belle France, 



Jean and ^' Frenchie^^ 227 

anyway, and I am damn glad It happened! " He 
became weak then, and didn't speak any more. As 
soon as I got the chance, I asked the soldier stand- 
ing by more particularly about the nature of the 
wound and he said in a low and faltering voice: 
" Jean will recover all right, for his wound Is not 
fatal at all, but," and he broke down as he con- 
tinued, "he'll never see light again. The poor 
fellow has both eyes shot out.'' 

An then he told me what a wonderful fight Jean 
had put up first, accounting for four Germans In 
hand-to-hand fighting. Poor Jean! He will 
grope his way through life! But the thing that 
Impressed me most was his Inner feeling, " It's all 
for La Belle France, and I'm damn glad it hap- 
pened! " 

You can't whip a nation like that. 



I 



CHAPTER XL 

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF FRANCE 

HAD a sort of habit, when I had time off from 
the work, or was " on my own," of some- 
times going to the railroad stations of the dif- 
ferent towns and more especially those of Paris. 
A railroad station is an interesting place at any 
time. It is an educational institution, for there 
you find all classes of humanity coming and go- 
ing, just as they are. It is where the ebb and flow 
of the human tide of life is. 

But I think in this time of war, especially, there 
is no place which so well shows up the psychology 
of the people as the railroad depot. Often have I 
stood in those large Paris stations and watched 
the people come and watched them go. The Gare 
du Nord, the Gare du Lyons, and the Gare la 
Chapelle are full of sentiment and pathos. 

Once at the last named station I was standing 
in the background in the shadow of a pillar, where 
I was unobtrusive and unnoticed, and watched the 
anxious people. Some of them were looking for 

228 



The Psychology of France 229 

their loved ones back on leave, and some of them 
had come to see their loved ones leave, perhaps 
forever ! 

I saw a young wife approach the gate with her 
husband. The brave little woman had escorted 
her mart to the station as he was leaving for 
the trenches, to take his place there in the mud and 
blood. And yet, as she stood there and talked to 
him outside the gates, she was exceptionally merry 
and vivacious. Then just as he went through the 
gates to board the train, she kissed him and waved 
him a cheery au revoir and stood smilingly, wav- 
ing as he went out of sight. 

And then — I saw that brave French woman 
turn around, and, as she walked away or almost 
stumbled away, become shaken with a paroxysm 
of sobs and grief, as though the heart were 
wrenched out of her breast. 

How she did weep! 

But she would not let her husband see it for 
anything in the world, for she felt she must keep 
him up so that he could fight the battle. That was 
her bit for La Belle France, And I have seen 
that same thing repeated very many times. 

I have often watched strong men come Into the 
depots with their brothers who were going to the 



230 ''Back From HelT' 

trenches. And as they talked with those dear ones 
who were going out to meet the foe, they would be 
happy and buoyant in their manner, and as they 
separated, they would kiss each other like young 
lovers, with prolonged and passionate kisses, for 
both realized that they might never meet again. 
And the cheery au revoir which they waved to 
each other meant "Till we meet again," probably 
*'over West." But they did not then show a 
trace of sadness. The soldier would board his 
train and the man who was left behind would 
turn away, convulsed with weeping; but he 
wouldn't let his brother see it. It was all for La 
Belle France. 

The soul of the French is a wonderful thing. 
They have a calm confidence that finally the in- 
vader will be vanquished, and that confidence 
goes a long way toward the goal. Not so many 
years since, the French were looked upon by many 
as being an enervated, effeminate people. I sup- 
pose the tourists who visited Paris had taken their 
impressions from a few of the men and women 
whom they had observed in the cafes and public 
places. At any rate, a great many Americans 
thought that as a nation she was degenerating and 
decaying, but France has proven to the world that 



The Psychology of France 231 

such an impression is not true, and no one has 
learned this lesson better than the German. To- 
day I believe Germany respects France more 
highly than any other of her enemies. This great 
Republic has conducted through these years such 
a remarkable war, and all the while kept up such 
a magnificent spirit that she has placed herself in 
the very front rank of the world's great powers. 
The secret of it all is the wonderful psychological 
attitude of the French people who go to make 
up the country, and if America can demonstrate 
a spirit which parallels it in the trying days to 
come, it will bode well for the outcome of the war. 
I am glad I went. My part, though humble, 
in this great struggle for human freedom, has 
done worlds for me, and I shall always rejoice 
that I had that profound experience. Physically, 
I overdid things, yet I wanted to do more. Every- 
body does. I often took foolish chances as I now 
see, but I am not sorry for it. I got little sleep 
and insufficient food, but I was happy in my work. 
Not infrequently as I worked I had realized the 
danger, but I didn't seem to care. Forgetting 
my own best interests, I guess I often did more 
than I should have done. But these things can- 
not last forever. The body wearies, the brain 



232 ''Back From Heir' 

tires, the nerves fatigue, there comes about a 
physical condition when the members of the body 
simply refuse to obey orders. Such a condition I 
suppose had come upon me. For some time I had 
felt it coming, but I still did not let up, though I 
was working like a man In a dream. 

At last, however, my nerves completely gave 
way. I saw that I must give up the work entirely 
and with great regret was forced to do so. I was 
given my release and a military ticket, but I was 
loath to leave the country which had opened my 
eyes to the deeper values of life. The people that 
I had met and the atmosphere In which I had 
labored had brought a new meaning to the words 
*'LIfe" and "Liberty,'' and I felt I was better 
fitted for my duty toward humanity. I had gained 
a something over there which I never got before 
in all the years of my academic education and a 
strange emotion tugged at my heart at the thought 
of leaving France. I vowed that If possibility pre- 
sented Itself I would return again to help the 
pollus. 



CHAPTER XLI 

THE CONTAGIOUS SPIRIT OF SACRIFICE 

OUT there on the Western front a marvelous 
spirit seems to have possession of the peo- 
ple. I doubt if the world ever saw such a close 
and Intimate communion of millions upon millions 
of men banded together for one mighty purpose, 
namely, the preservation of Liberty on the earth. 
Men endure suffering and women undergo hard- 
ships such as they never dreamed to be possible. 
In every age Liberty has had Its champions and 
morality Its martyrs, but there never was a time 
when such hosts of crusaders from every corner 
of the world with one accord marched forth to 
sacrifice for a common cause. Men seem to vie 
with one another as to who can do the most. Hard- 
ship Is accepted with a jest. Women with sleepless 
eyes watch over sufferers on beds of pain, never 
thinking of self but rather losing themselves In 
the great purpose for which It Is all endured. They 
seem to have a vision which Is almost superhuman. 
Most of us can see only today and Its security and 

233 



234 ''Back From Hell'' 

happiness; but these messengers are looking to the 
welfare of their children's children to the third and 
fourth generation. To them the general good of 
Humanity looms up and eclipses all considerations 
of personal comfort or convenience. And so they 
keep on toiling and enduring through the months. 

At one time when I was in a hospital I made my 
way down to a room where the ladies were serving 
four oVlock tea. I arrived just a few moments too 
late, and much to my chagrin the ladies were clear- 
ing away the dishes. I saw a woman carrying a 
plate full of cakes — all that were left — out of 
the room and up to the wounded soldiers above. 
I stopped her, jokingly, saying, " I'm going to steal 
one of those cakes. I came late." She graciously 
held the plate out to me while I helped myself, 
saying as she did so, "You boys deserve them if 
anybody does. We can't do enough for you." 

A moment later she stepped out, and I said to 
the lady who handed me a cup of tea, " I almost 
lost my cake today as I was late. What is the 
woman's name who took the plate upstairs ? " Her 
answer stunned me. "That's Mrs. Vanderbllt," 
she said modestly. 

And then I began to think. What was Mrs. 
Vanderbilt doing over there working In a hospital? 



Contagious Spirit of Sacrifice 235 

What are all the influential and wealthy people 
doing now, to lighten the burden and help the 
cause? There is certainly a sympathy between 
the high and low which was never known before 
anywhere in the world. 

This day as I sat there, I suppose with a rather 
serious expression on my face, a nurse put In her 
appearance. *' Why, my friend," she said, "what 
makes you look so sober?" "Oh, nothing," I 
said, and tried to smile. "Yes, but there is and 
you must tell me," she persisted. "I was think- 
ing about America's pacifists," I answered. " I 
used to be one myself, but I now see that they are 
injuring the cause that these brave fellows are dy- 
ing for, and they ought to be severely punished. 
My own effectiveness is hampered and has become 
insignificant because of my former attitude, but 
from now on I am going to stand up for the fight- 
ing soldier every time." 

"Your idea is right," answered the nurse. 
"The pacifists back in the States who have been 
objecting to the government's policy and who 
have dodged and evaded their duty, ought to be 
put in jail. But," and she emphasized her state- 
ment with her index finger, " you are a bit hard on 
yourself, I think, and your work is not Inslgnifi- 



236 ''Back From Hell'' 

cant. You have tried to do your little bit here to 
atone for having been a pacifist and now it is 
possible that you may do much in the States by 
your voice and pen to rouse the people of America 
to their patriotic duty. You may teach them many 
lessons.'* 

*' I myself have learned one great lesson over 
here,'* I said. "I have learned that In order to 
find happiness one must lose himself. He must 
give up himself in a worthy cause." 

" I understand," replied the nurse. " I can 
see that you have become imbued with the spirit 
of sacrifice which seems contagious here In this 
land. Everybody has it." 

"Well, I don't know about that," I said, "but 
whatever you may say, I do know this: I know 
that those poor fellows out there in the mud have 
given all they've got to make the world safe from 
Germany, and we ought to do the same. The one 
who is a pacifist now, Is a slacker, a traitor, and In 
reality, a murderer. He Is prolonging the war 
and thus sacrificing additional lives. I know that 
the Man who gave His life on the cruel cross, two 
thousand years ago, gave It for liberty, the same 
as these soldiers are doing today, and when I read 
in the American papers now and then of some of 



Contagious Spirit of Sacrifice 237 

the obstructionists In our own country, who are 
railing at the President and scoffing at what Is 
being done to prepare our army, I can't express 
myself;^ 

"You must be patient though," she said, "for 
such men will come to their deserts, and I am 
so glad that I have had the pleasure of know- 
ing you, and as you take your departure, I want 
you to know that I shall always remember you In 
the first capacity In which I knew you, as an am- 
bulance worker, and because of your activity in 
saving lives — for that above all is the one thing 
I am Interested in." 



CHAPTER XLII 

THE HERITAGE OF HATE 

THE blackest aspect of the sin which Ger- 
many has committed In this war Is not 
to be found In the ruined churches and the dev- 
astated homes. The vandallstic crime which 
asserted Itself In destroying school-houses and 
libraries and works of art, In desolating the fields 
and laying low the country, sinks into the back- 
ground when compared with the wickedness of 
sowing that heritage of hate In untold millions of 
hearts — a hate which will endure and bear fruit 
against her long after the present conflict has 
passed Into history. 

Ernest Lissauer, In his well-known "hymn" 
expressed the venom and hatred of Germany for 
those of other nations who do not concede her the 
right of world conquest, and was decorated for it 
by the Emperor. And although an attempt was 
made to suppress the hymn after the Germans 
realized Its detriment to themselves the seed had 
been sown far and wide and could not be recalled. 

238 



TKe Heritage of Hate 239 

Germany had spread race hatred in the world, and 
that is the greatest barrier there is to human 
progress. 

Universal brotherhood for which Jesus lived and 
died, and for which the noblest men have always 
lived, has been turned back a thousand years by 
Germany, and that is her great crime. That is the 
accusation for which her military leaders will have 
to answer before the bar of God on the solemn 
Judgment Day. She sowed to the wind and she 
reaps the whirlwind. Not only has she stirred up 
bitterness and hate in the breasts of her own peo- 
ple, but by her foul deeds, the offspring of that 
hatred, she has planted a hate in the very beings 
and natures of the people of her enemy countries 
which almost equals it. In the earlier days of the 
war it was occasionally said that there was no 
hatred between the opposing soldiers and that the 
people of the conquered territories often frater- 
nized with the German invaders. It was a lie. Al- 
though the men of France and Belgium were very 
scarce in the towns and cities, because most of them 
had gone to the trenches, and although the women 
were perhaps lonesome for companionship, yet 
woe be to that insulting German soldier who at- 
tempted to converse or walk with a French girl on 



240 ''Back From Heir' 

the street, for he would receive such a withering 
look and answer as would make the blood run cold 
in any man with an ounce of self-respect. The girls 
of the conquered countries today would rather 
play with serpents than hold any kind of conversa- 
tion or have any social intercourse with the haughty 
invaders. 

In the beginning they tried to force their ob- 
noxious attentions on the women; but they soon 
learned better and in the regions which they arro- 
gantly possess today the German soldiers are the 
most shunned and lonely people that ever lived. 
Little babes just learning to talk are schooled to 
hate the Germans. Many a time I have seen 
young mothers with painstaking care drilling the 
little ones to lisp vengeance upon their enemy. In- 
stead of the affectionate terms of "papa" and 
"mamma" which all nationalities first teach the 
infant the outraged inhabitants pronounce the 
words Les Allemands Boche, and The Kaiser 
Kaput. "The Germans are contemptible" and 
" Cut the head off the Kaiser." 

No man need tell me that this universal feeling 
will soon die away and that when peace comes 
about normal relations will soon be restored. It is 
not human nature. Like the snake in the garden 



The Heritage of Hate 241 

of Eden which brought the hatred of the race upon 
Itself so that evermore " the heel of mankind shall 
crush the serpent's head," so has Germany brought 
down the maledictions of the human race upon 
her head, so that for a long time to come the hand 
of every man will be against her. This is the sad 
part of it all and this is the crime for which Ger- 
many will yet give account. I heard one soldier, 
who had had more than ordinary experience with 
their method of atrocity, say: "I'd like to have 
every man, woman, and child In Germany killed 
without mercy and I'd like to be there with the 
bayonet to finish up the job ! " 

I maintain that If God be just, not that man, 
but his enemy who drove him to that attitude will 
be held to account for his fearful hatred. When 
history Is written and when Germany, Instead of 
profiting by her sin, shall be eating the bitter fruits 
of her own unrighteousness then shall the Scrip- 
ture be fulfilled In her ears, *^Ye cannot gather 
grapes of thorns nor figs of thistles." "The way 
of the transgressor Is hard," and " In like manner 
as ye sow, so shall ye reap, full measure, heaped 
up, shaken together, running over." 

It is not merely a penalty placed by the Allied 
nations upon an offending country. It Is not 



242 ''Back From Heir' 

simply that we shall say we will "get even with 
her " and will take revenge for all her inhuman out- 
rages, bjut It Is that the Immutable fiat of God goes 
forth, and that the one who flings himself against 
that great law shall pay to the uttermost farthing. 



CHAPTER XLIII 



"back from hell 



MY FISTS are now clinched! I am fighting 
now. My experience as I have here given 
it, drives me to this inevitable conclusion. Ger- 
many, as she now is organized, cannot be tolerated 
in a modern world. She must be vanquished ! 
Bloodshed is not the worst thing in life. The 
slaughter of the men who are enslaving and killing 
millions is today a Christian duty, so help me God ! 
To me has come the Great Awakening. I have 
surrendered myself to Him. America, the strong- 
est democracy of history, has undertaken to fight 
and defeat the Kaiser. Every man, woman, and 
child in this nation must be mobilized in order to 
guarantee this outcome. In this supreme, vital 
hour, the pacifist and the slacker shall suffer the 
damnation of hell! Fighters are patriots — paci- 
fists are traitors. The whole nation must undergo 
a rigid system of preparedness to accomplish this 
great task of safe-guarding our own and the 
world's liberties, and further than that, to make a 

243 



244 ^Back From Hell'' 

more stalwart citizenship than we now possess. 
We need a more robust young manhood than we 
have. We are living in the greatest Republic the 
world ever saw. We have more liberty than any 
land on earth — more than some people know how 
to use sensibly. But " eternal vigilance is the price 
of liberty," therefore, my people, arouse! I plead, 
and get behind the government with every ounce 
of energy and support that you can muster. Buy 
Liberty Bonds, give to the Red Cross, conserve 
the food, encourage the drafted men, enlist your- 
self in some branch of the Service and Help to 
Win This War! If you can't go, remember this: 
You must equip the brave fellows who do go. As 
my friend said to me, " None of us must think his 
part insignificant." 

Out there, it is a fact that the spirit of sacrifice 
Is contagious. No man counts his life dear to 
himself. It must become so here. Every shoulder 
is required at the wheel, as our foe Is a monstrous 
one. 

I labor under no delusions as to the weakness 
of the enemy. Germany Is still powerful and will 
fight with the desperation of an animal that Is cor- 
nered, and we must prepare for a long, hard battle. 
Universal Service today is the one thing which Is 



''Back From Heir' 245 

saving America and civilization. Always remem- 
ber that. And our youths need it to make men of 
them mentally and physically. Our boys need it 
for their own good and the good of the future. 
It is a preparation for life that we need in 
America and with it we will be prepared for 
anything. 

We have had perhaps too much liberty in our 
land, and it has often made boys a lawless, care- 
less, disrespectful, slouchy crowd, thinking only of 
what they can get out of life and not of what they 
can give in the way of service. These are not my 
personal opinions. They are well-known facts and 
the highest army officers have bitterly complained 
of them. Even the father who is against Universal 
Service will admit their truth. The boys of 
America need to learn courtesy, obedience, re- 
spect, efficiency. Their hearts are right and the 
present fault is not entirely their own. They have 
not been disciplined. Let us now be wise. 

I am closing up my little book. Tm back from 
hell. Back from the hell made by the Kaiser and 
his German hordes in Europe. But also, and more 
significantly, back from the hell of pacifism, when 
God is crying, " Militancy, my son I " Back from 
the hell which says, " Sleep on, thou sluggard, in 



246 ''Back From Hell'' 

thy peace and cowardice, while God, and the other 
nations are awake and doing, against the wicked 
adversary." Back from the hell which whispers, 
"Lose thy soul, but save thy skin." Back from 
the hell in which men like David Starr Jordan and 
Mr. Bryan and my humble self have been. Paci- 
fism is hell, when heaven challenges the soul to 
fight. So I am going to fight. I have found my 
soul through war. Fm a saved man. Fm happy 
at last and I am going to preach it now. I am go- 
ing to speak and write as long as I have power, 
to help America win the war primarily, and then 
to help make America a better country by making 
her people better citizens, and thus help to make 
this place we live In a better world. 

We must fear God and down the Kaiser. And 
I do not know of any more fitting words that 
could be used In closing up this little war message 
to the American people, from a common, humble 
helper, than those of our great National Anthem : 

Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just, 
And this he our motto: — "/« God Is Our Trust.'* 
The star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave 
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the 
brave. 



''Back From Heir' 247 

And may the ideals of that flag and the flags 
of our noble Allies guide the destinies of the 
world, and Christ again become the guide of 
human life and Prussianistic Militarism be speed- 
ily ground to powder. 

No true social order can be erected upon a false 
foundation. Autocracy is false, pernicious, and 
rotten from top to bottom. Therefore it must be 
annihilated root and branch before the peoples of 
the earth can find freedom and happiness. The 
old structure must be entirely torn down and the 
social order built on a new foundation. 

The United States has consecrated herself to 
this task. Stupendous as it is, she can accomplish 
it. France has done her part, Britain has per- 
formed her duty, but France and Britain today are 
calling to us. Not in any spirit of boastfulness 
therefore, but in a spirit of deep humility coupled 
with a determined confidence must we respond to 
their urgent plea. We must go, we must give, 
we must sacrifice. If America is to save the situa- 
tion, as I believe she is, she must know before- 
hand that it will be at a price such as she has never 
paid before. Widows will pine and daughters 
will mourn. Rachel will weep in the midnight for 



248 ''Back Fro7n Hell'' 

her sons because they are not and orphans will 
cry themselves to sleep. But out of the blackness 
the consolation which comes to me is that through 
it all we will find our soul and we v/ill obey the 
summons of a just and righteous God. To do less 
were craven. 

America, like other nations, may sometime go 
down. When we have accomplished our mission 
we too may pass off the stage of action. But, 
please God, when the names shall be called from 
the great Book of Life and the records of the 
nations now gone, shall be read, lack of vision and 
failure in duty shall not be charged against Amer- 
ica ; and, in the new and better world, America's 
part in making possible the higher order of things 
shall be recognized and acknowledged. 

Every man has his duty. Every woman her 
sphere. There is nothing worth living for in the 
present hour but to assist in defeating Germany. 
And let me sound a warning here and now, loud 
and clear, that the person who is found unwilling 
or inactive in the accomplishment of this one goal 
will sooner or later feel the bitterness of what it 
is to be " a man without a country." He will come 
to hate himself. 

On the other hand, he who does his part, who 



Back From Hell" 249 



gives himself unstintedly in this hour of the world's 
woe, and who does not calculate the personal cost, 
will have the boundless and undying gratitude of 
future ages. These will have a part in the greatest 
humanizing and redemptive work since earth be- 
gan and '' the generations shall rise up and call 
them blessed." They also will be able to boast the 
honor of having been true Americans. 

As for myself, I know not what the future holds. 
My personal fortunes are in the hands of God and 
my country. The pastorate which I resigned has 
been filled by another. 

But I do know this : that I have been used in 
the great cause of democracy in a hundred times 
larger way than I ever was before or ever could 
have been, had I not gone to the war and been 
converted to militant justice. I am hoping to go 
back again, but in the meantime the government 
has been using my humble services in a way w^hich 
is most gratifying to me. I have traveled from 
one end of the continent to the other delivering 
lectures to American citizens and trying to rouse 
them to their duty. I have probably spoken to a 
million people, and I hope this book, with the same 
object in view, may reach as many more. And the 
people have been most kind to me. In places like 



250 



Back From Hell 



Tremont Temple, Boston; Carnegie Hall, New 
York; and Orchestra Hall, Chicago, audiences of 
thousands have given me memorable ovations. 
And when I spoke for Dr. Hillis, in Henry Ward 
Beecher's old church, the congregation applauded 
to the echo, even though it was the Sabbath day. 
And all I ask for the future is that my life may 
be worn out for God and my country. Au Revoir! 



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